


Half a Mile an Hour

by Fehnryr



Series: The Long Road [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Best Friends, Gen, Growing Up Together, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Sex, but not between dean and cas or gabe and sam, elementary/middle/highschool au, nothing super underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fehnryr/pseuds/Fehnryr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam was six and Dean was ten, John had one too many bottles of whiskey, wrapped the Impala around a tree, and nearly got himself killed. The boys went off to stay with Bobby in Lawrence until their dad recovered. </p><p>They think it's a temporary stay until Dean nearly falls off a dock and is saved by an unlikely boy in a tan sweater and his sweet-toothed, foul-mouthed brother. The Winchester boys and the Novak boys become inseparable within a week, and even John Winchester can't pull them apart. </p><p>So begins their life in Lawrence Kansas: summers on swing sets with popsicles in hand, school years and all the troubles that come with, and unforgettable memories in the loft of an abandoned church that becomes their sanctuary. </p><p>Life always comes with struggles, though, and that's a lesson they all have to learn.</p><p>--</p><p>Started out as a prologue to a college fic. Turned into a monster. This is going to be a two part series, so strap in. ;D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a two part series. Sabriel/Destiel does not happen until the second story, but the beginnings are here. I do not have a beta reader, so I apologize for any mistakes. Feel free to point them out and I will happily fix them.
> 
> The first chapter is more of an "overview" of how it all started, so I apologize if it feels rushed but that's partially intentional.
> 
> Also, I've never been to Lawrence Kansas and I'm totally winging it, so I'm sorry if any places I mentioned seem terribly out of place. For the most part it's pretty vague, but it might be safer to assume that, for the sake of this fanfiction, Lawrence Kansas is an entirely fictional place. 
> 
> Title from "How Far We've Come" by Matchbox 20.  
> If you haven't seen it already, I highly suggest you type that into youtube followed by "supernatural" and watch the first video. You'll cry, but it's worth it.

Prologue

When Sam was old enough to notice the pattern, he started asking questions. He couldn’t have been more than five. “Where’s dad go all the time, Dean?” He’d ask as his older brother dumped spaghettios into his bowl for dinner. “How come we move so much?” He’d ask before Dean flicked off the lamp at night. 

“Quit asking, Sammy,” Dean would say. Then he’d leave the bedroom of whatever shabby apartment they were staying in at the time and drag himself into the living room, plopping down in front of the TV. He’d learned a long time ago that they couldn’t afford cable, so he’d saved up his money and bought an old VCR player. Once a week he would walk down to the local library and check out an armful of movies, then he would watch one each night while he waited to see if John would show up or not. Some times he would stumble in, glassy eyed and reeking of alcohol, but more often then not the night would end, the sun would rise, and the brothers would still be alone.

Then, every two months or so, came the dreaded announcement. Work had dried up and they couldn’t afford the rent, so it was time to move on. Sometimes they found a new town right away. Sometimes they lived out of the Impala for a while. Sam was never happy, though, and it hurt Dean something awful to see his brother so heartbroken to leave another town. “I was just starting to make friends!” he’d cry.

“You’ll make new friends. They’ll be even better.” Dean never believed himself, but it only mattered if Sam believed him. He had to stay strong for Sammy.

 

\--

When Sam was six and Dean was ten, John had one too many bottles of whiskey, wrapped the Impala around a tree, and nearly got himself killed. Dean didn’t find out until three days later when Uncle Bobby came knocking at the door in their Texas apartment and said, “I knew he had you boys holed up around here somewhere. Pack your bags; you’re going to be staying with me for a while.”

Dean was a ball of nerves until he saw his dad alive and breathing, but there was no denying that he’d be in the hospital for a while. “You’d better behave at Bobby’s,” John told his eldest son. “Watch out for Sammy. Don’t let him get into trouble.” So they left John behind to recover and Singer Salvage became the Winchester boys’ new home for a summer.

\--

Dean had always liked Kansas, but he’d learned by now not to get attached to any one place. Still, he couldn’t help but smile when Bobby sent them upstairs to their bedrooms and Dean realized that he had an entire room all to himself. He wasn’t going to do anything so permanent as unpacking, but it was amazing to know that, should he choose to use it, he had a dresser of his very own.

Sam was unpacked and moved in before Dean finished piling his dirty clothes together. Part of him wanted to remind Sammy that this wasn’t permanent, but he kept his mouth shut and let his brother be happy. God knew the kid deserved it. 

\--

They had a comfortable routine at Singer Salvage. They would wake up early and Bobby would make breakfast. He used too much salt and always burnt the bacon, but to the Winchester boys it was the best thing in the world. Come noon they would go outside, where Sam would play with Bobby’s old bloodhound, Rufus, and Dean would watch with fascination as the old mechanic took cars that were nothing more than scrap heaps and turned them into running vehicles. He learned the names of every tool in Bobby’s garage and every make and model on the lot within the course of a week.

Sam took up reading with a passion and it wasn’t long before Bobby had to pry him away from the old dusty bookshelves and take him to the library so he could get some age-appropriate reading material. He settled for the entire boxcar kids series and a book all about magic tricks. Bobby promised that if they were still around by the time school started back up, they’d enroll him in the local elementary school. Sam had grinned so wide his face hurt.

\--

One day, about three weeks after Dean and Sam had arrived a Bobby’s, they came down for breakfast and found Bobby waiting for them instead. “I’m all out of anything worth eating, boys. What do you say we hit the diner in town and then I teach you scrawny little Winchesters how to throw a football?” He was met by twin stares of disbelief. “What, ain’t you ever had a day off in your life? Christ.”

So off they went, first to the diner and then to the park, none of them suspecting that this was the day that would change the rest of Sam and Dean’s lives.

The park was beautiful that day, complete with the perfect weather and just enough people to make it feel alive but not so many that it was crowded. Kids played on the swing sets and parents relaxed on benches, keeping one eye on their children and the other on a book. A woman flew by on a pair of roller blades and another jogged past with a shaggy dog in the lead. 

Bobby led the boys to a patch of grass near the lake and they arranged themselves in a triangle, passing the ball back and forth with varying accuracy. Every so often he’d stop to show them how to make the ball spin or get more speed on it, then they’d return to throwing with new determination to outdo each other. Nearly an hour passed before Bobby finally tossed the ball to Dean and threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Don’t know where you kids get all that energy from. I’m gonna sit down for a bit. Stay out of trouble, ya hear?”

Sam and Dean were gone in a flurry, feet pounding down the boardwalk that hung over the lake. They raced all the way to the end, nearly knocking a few people over in their excitement. When they reached it they hung over the railing, staring down at wonder at the long nosed turtles swimming beneath the surface and the fish that darted by in organized schools. “Look at that one, Sammy!” Dean shouted, pointing out the biggest fish he could find.

They hung like that for several moments, until Sam spotted the biggest fish of all. “Dean!” he yelped, lurching forward to point it out. His shoelace snagged on a piece of the railing as he moved and it was pried from his foot. “No!” He tried to grab for it, but he didn’t want to fall over the rail and into the water. Normally a shoe wouldn’t be a big deal, but Dean had just bought him a new pair of sneakers that summer with the coins he’d been saving all year.

Dean, always the thrill seeker, just grinned at his little brother. “I got it, Sammy. Don’t worry.” Sam stepped back off the railing and watched as his brother swung over, holding on with one hand and trying to reach the shoe with his other. It was dangling just inches above the water, shoelace still caught on a splintered piece of wood. “Almost…” Sam shifted from foot to foot. “…Got it!”

“Dean!” 

Just as the older Winchester’s fingers closed around the shoe, his grip on the railing faltered and he started to slip. Sam knew he wasn’t strong enough to pull his brother back up, but he was about to leap over the railing and try. Before he could, he was shoved out of the way by a boy in a tan sweater, who flung himself over the rail and wrapped his hand around Dean’s arm with an bruising grip.

Dean dangled from sweater-boy’s hold, abandoning Sam’s shoe in favor of clutching the bottom rail. The boy struggled to hold Dean’s weight and pull the both of them back over, but before Sam could make an attempt to help, another boy appeared and hauled both of them back over the railing none to gently. All three of them toppled to the boardwalk’s floor, closely followed by Sam, who threw himself at Dean.

Bobby had seen the commotion from his seat on the bench and was jogging toward them, worry creasing the brow beneath his trucker’s cap. “What in the hell?” He’d gasped at the pile of boys on the dock. “What happened?”

They all pulled themselves to their feet with groans and grumbles, but Sam was the first to speak up. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hung his head, admitting, “I lost my shoe.”

Bobby blinked at him for a moment, then put the pieces together. “And I’m sure your genius brother went after it. Am I right?” Dean mimicked Sam’s pose, but kept his head up. He shrugged and glanced away.

“What happened?” Another voice joined in from a bit further down the dock. A dark haired man with mint colored eyes jogged up to them and stopped beside Bobby. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, looks like. Those your boys?” Bobby nodded to the pair of rescuers that stood beside Sam and Dean.

“My brothers. Did they cause you trouble?”

“Trouble, hah! I just saved that kid’s ass and you’re asking if I’m causing trouble? Some show of faith, Michael.”

“Watch your mouth, Gabriel.”

Dean and Sam both turned to stare at the foul-mouthed boy, half in awe and half in disbelief. His arms were folded defiantly across his chest and he had dirt smudged on his face from where he’d been playing before. He looked almost nothing like his brothers; his eyes were honey colored and his hair was messy and brown. Sweater-boy held a much closer resemblance to Michael, aside from his shockingly blue eyes that seemed to be taking in every scrap of information he could process. Right now he was staring down Dean, the look of disapproval strange on such a young face.

“Boys,” Bobby finally prompted when he’d finished talking to Michael. He glanced meaningfully at the young pair and the Winchesters remembered their manners.

“Thank you for saving my brother,” Sam spit out in one long word.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, short stuff,” Gabriel grinned. He dug some candy out of his pocket and dropped it into Sam’s hand. “You’ve got to keep an eye on him, though. Big brothers are really stupid sometimes.” He said the last part intentionally loud and earned a glare from Michael. 

“My name’s Sam, by the way.”

“Gabriel, obviously.”

“That’s my brother, Dean.”

“I can introduce myself, Sammy,” Dean scoffed with an eye roll. Then he turned to the last brother. “What’s your name?”

Sam realized that sweater-boy hadn’t spoken yet and was suddenly far more interested in his answer. After a moment or two, though, Gabriel piped up. “He doesn’t really-”

“Castiel.”

Surprised showed plain on Gabriel’s face, then he grinned like he’d just won a prize. “Well would you look at that.”

Dean nodded. “Well thanks again, Castiel.” The name rolled off his tongue like an awkward foreign word. “I don’t know how I feel about swimming with all those elephant turtles down there.”

“ _Apalone ferox_. Not native to Kansas.”

Gabriel grinned and threw an arm around his brother. “Don’t mind him, he’s a bit of a nerd.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “That’s the bino…” His brow furrowed. “Binoma…”

“Binomial Nomenclature,” Castiel supplied.

“Right!”

Gabriel and Dean finally exchanged glances, wearing a shared expression of, _What have we done?_

\--

Within a week, the Winchesters and the Novaks were nearly inseparable. Bobby claimed that his scrap yard was no place for young boys to run around and play, so he agreed to bring them to the park every day for a few hours of playtime. The Novaks lived just across the street from the park, and each day they would scramble out of their house and across the street as soon as they saw Bobby’s beat up Chevy pull into the parking lot. 

After the first day they promised to stay away from the edge of the dock, but they always found ways to entertain themselves. Despite Gabriel being fourteen and Dean being ten, they immediately became co-conspirators with constant plots to cause havoc. Gabriel would invent elaborate plans to hide dog crap under the blanket of a crabby old woman or spill salt into a rude man’s unattended iced tea, and Dean would help carry out the plan with colorful diversions. Sam and Castiel would often find themselves in the shade of a tree or beneath the park’s slide reading from the piles of books they would bring. Occasionally Sam would hold out his book with a finger pressed to a word he didn’t recognize and Castiel would rattle off what sounded like a direct dictionary definition. For ten years old, Castiel was exceptionally smart. 

On especially hot days, the four of them would collect quarters from Bobby and Michael, then chase down the ice cream truck as it passed by the park. They would all get popsicles and sit on the swings and Gabriel would tell elaborate stories until they were all blue in the face from laughter. 

By the end of the summer, it was a well known fact in Lawrence, Kansas that those four boys were attached at the hips and nothing would ever change that.

\--

One week before school was going to start, Bobby’s cell phone rang. They were in the middle of a department store picking out school clothes for Dean and Sam, so Bobby waved them in the direction of the fitting rooms and answered the call.

“Bobby?”

“John? How are ya?” John had gotten out of the hospital about a month after the accident, but he’d been required to stay in Texas for rehabilitation and physical therapy. He’d called on occasion, but only often enough to make sure Sam and Dean weren’t being too much trouble.

“Better. How are the boys?”

“Great, they’re great. You wouldn’t believe the books Sam’s putting down these days. And Dean can damn near list every part under the hood of a car by memory.”

“That’s my boys,” John said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Thanks for taking care of them while I’ve been… out.”

Bobby nodded to himself, but there was an uncomfortable feeling growing in his gut. “Look, John-”

“No, no. I know. I’m coming up tomorrow. I’ll be there around ten to get them, all right? I know I’ve left them on you for too long. I’ll pay you back, Bobby, I will.”

Just as Bobby was about to open his mouth and tell John that he wasn’t taking those boys anywhere, there was a commotion on the other side of the line. Then John was back, sounding gruff and annoyed. “I gotta go. They’re giving me shit about my ticket. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell the boys I said hi.”

The line went dead and Bobby was left standing there, feeling like somebody punched him in the gut. 

\--

 

The next morning Bobby had the boys up, dressed, and fed before the sun had even touched the sky. When a blue pickup pulled into the driveway, he herded them outside. Michael waited in the driver’s seat, unshaven and clutching a cup of coffee in one hand.

“You boys are going to spend the day with the Novaks, all right? Don’t give them too much trouble.”

“What’s going on, Bobby?” Dean asked for the eleventh time. Bobby waited until Sam had hoisted himself up into the cab of the truck to answer.

“Your Daddy’s coming back today, and we need to have a little talk.”

Dean’s expression switched from excitement to terror, to anger, then worry. Bobby’s heart nearly broke at the sight. “I don’t want to leave,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“That’s what we’re going to talk about. Don’t you worry, boy. You’re not going anywhere if I have anything to say about it.” He clapped a massive hand down on Dean’s shoulder, then pushed him off toward the waiting truck. “Go have yourself some fun and I’ll handle this. I’ll come get you ‘round suppertime.”

Despite Bobby’s pep-talk, Dean was filled with dread for the entire day. Even seeing the Novak’s house for the very first time didn’t cheer him up as much as it should have; all he could think about was how he might never see it again.

Sam caught on to his mood pretty quick, but Dean didn’t want to ruin his little brother’s last day in Lawrence so he shrugged it off and said he thought he was getting a cold. He didn’t think Castiel had even been in the room when he’d said it, but ten minutes later the youngest Novak was pushing a mug of hot tea and honey into his hands. For a moment, Dean thought he might actually cry. 

Lunch was a busy affair with five Novaks and two Winchesters and enough sandwiches to feed an army. They’d only ever met Michael, the eldest brother at twenty two and Anna, the middle child at seventeen, at the park. Lucifer, the eighteen year old terror, never left his room as far as Dean and Sam were told. It was a surprise to see him seated at the table, chowing down on a ham-and-cheese with a wicked looking smile. 

Gabriel had told the Winchesters all about their dysfunctional family one day at the park while they’d been sucking on popsicles and hogging all four of the swings. “Mom was always a flighty thing, coming and going and coming again, so none of us knew much about her. One day she never came back and none of us were really surprised. Lucifer took it hardest, I think.”

“Your brother’s name is Lucifer?” Sam had squawked in disbelief. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel had laughed. “They thought he was going to be a girl and they were dead set on Lucy. When a boy popped out they figured they’d take the risk and stick with the angel theme. Joke’s on them; he really is the anti-christ.”

He’d gone on to explain how their dad clocked out mentally the day their mom put the baby bundle named Castiel in his arms and left for good, and how the day Michael turned twenty one their dad had gone off too without so much as a ‘see you later’. Michael had taken it upon himself to raise the rest of his siblings, and there they were.

Looking around the table now, Dean almost wished for their life. Maybe it would be easier if John would just take off and leave them behind for once, rather than uprooting them and dragging them thousands of miles away only to repeat a month later. The thought spun around in his head until he finally had to excuse himself from the table. He locked himself in the bathroom where Sammy couldn’t see him be weak and finally let himself cry.

Castiel had been the one to find him, gently sliding a note under the door followed by a pencil to respond with. _Please come out, Dean,_ it said in flawless handwriting. 

Dean snuffled and scooted toward to door, picking up the pencil and writing back, _Don’t wanna. Can’t let Sammy see me like this._

He slid the note back under the door and listened for the scratching of the response. When it came back it said, _Then let me in?_

After a long moment, the lock on the bathroom door clicked off and Dean scooted backwards again to let the door open. Cas slipped inside and relocked the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, seating himself on the floor with his back against the cabinets and fixing his blue eyes on Dean.

Dean didn’t mean to let it all come out, but as soon as he opened his mouth he knew there was no stopping the torrent that came forth. “My dad’s back in town and he’s gonna take me and Sammy away again and I don’t wanna go. I’m real happy he’s not in the hospital any more ‘cuz I don’t want him to be hurt but I don’t want to leave you and Gabe and Bobby and I especially don’t want to go because Sammy’s gonna be so sad. He’s gonna cry for weeks and I can’t do anything to stop it. That and I’m sick of motel rooms that smell like mold and I’m sick of staying up all night watching Godzilla over and over until dad comes home and I’m sick of spaghettios and lucky charms and pizza and truck stops…” He could go on forever about the things he was sick of, but his breath kept getting caught in his throat and there was snot leaking from his nose. Castiel handed him the entire roll of toilet paper and sat silently as he cleaned himself up.

“I really don’t want to go, Cas.”

“Cas?”

Dean gave him a small smile that probably looked odd on his blotchy red face. “It’s a nickname. Castiel’s a mouthful.”

“Like Sammy and Gabe,” Castiel observed.

“Yeah. Like that.”

“I don’t want you to leave either, Dean.”

When they came out of the bathroom nearly twenty minutes later, Gabriel and Castiel had a quick and silent conversation with their eyes, then Gabriel pulled out a box of video games and the four of them continued on like nothing had ever happened. 

\--

When Bobby pulled up in the driveway at five in the evening, Sam took one look at their father sitting in the passenger seat and backpedaled, stumbling into Gabriel and grabbing his hand. Dean took Sam’s free hand and Castiel’s as well, completing the link between the four of them. They stood defiantly as John approached.

“Hey dad,” Dean squeaked around the lump in his throat. He wanted to hug the man, glad that he was in one piece, but he refused to break the ranks. 

“We’re not going,” Sam announced. It was probably laughable, hearing such a demand out of a boy who was only six, but nobody cracked a smile.

“We’ll talk about it, Sammy. Why don’t you go get in the car?”

“No. Gabriel and Castiel are my friends and I love them and I’m not leaving.” He glared up at his father and dared him to say differently.

John turned to his more sensible son. “Dean, get your brother in the car.”

Sam and Cas could probably feel him shaking, but for once, he too stood up to his father. “I don’t want to leave.” 

John finally ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Look, we’ll stay for the week and we’ll talk about this. Right now, we’re going to dinner.” He glanced at the two strange boys that clung to his sons. “You’ll see each other tomorrow, all right?”

Though it took a few minutes and some help from Bobby, the Winchesters finally separated from the Novaks and climbed into the back of the car. Michael came outside and herded his younger brothers in, but they stayed in each other’s minds for the rest of the night.

\--

The first night was quiet, none of them wanting to bring up the big subject until someone else did. The second night, Sam said he’d never forgive his father if he dragged him out of Lawrence. John told Sam to go to his room and that was that. The third night, John found himself a bottle of whiskey, and that’s when it started.

Sam and Dean were up in their rooms pretending to sleep when Bobby came in from the garage and found John on his couch. “Really, John?” He’d growled. Dean heard a noise that sounded like a bottle being placed back into the cabinet. Bobby had probably taken it away. “Thought that was the whole point of rehab. Get you off of that stuff.”

“I learned my damn lesson,” John said with a hint of a slur to his voice. “I ain’t drivin’ anywhere tonight.” Dean couldn’t hear what they said after that, but the volume slowly escalated until he could hear just fine.

“They’re my god damn kids, I’ll raise them how I damn well see fit!” John barked.

“You ain’t done any raisin’ as far as I can tell! You just throw ‘em in the car and drag ‘em all over creation without a damn thought to their well being! What you ‘aught to do is let them start school in a week like the rest of the kids their age and give ‘em a chance at a normal life!”

“Don’t you tell me what to do with my boys,” John growled. 

“If you’d take a damn minute to look at them, you’d see that they’re happier than they’ve been for as long as I’ve known ‘em. You pull them away from those Novak kids and you’re gonna break their hearts, John!” Bobby was practically pleading with him, but Dean knew his dad was more stubborn than that.

“Those Novak kids? You mean the boys that were holding hands with my sons? Yeah, they seem like a great influence. Those kids don’t even have a parent to keep ‘em in line.”

The last part was so quiet, Dean almost didn’t hear it. “Like your boys do?”

After that the screen door to the porch slammed hard and Dean knew his Dad had left. It opened and closed again and the yelling continued out in the yard. Dean almost got up to open the window and listen to the rest, but a quiet knock on his door stopped him. 

“It’s okay, Sammy. You can come in.”

Sam crawled up into the older Winchester’s bed. “I’m scared,” he whimpered. “I don’t want to leave.”

Dean pulled his little brother under the covers and hugged him close, telling him not to worry and that it would all be okay. After a while Sam stopped crying, and a few minutes after that he finally fell asleep. “We’re not going anywhere,” Dean whispered. “I promise.”

\--

The next day, John was nowhere to be found. Bobby took off after breakfast to look for him and drove around for two hours before he finally figured it out. “He’s at your mother’s grave,” he told the boys when he returned. He’d decided it was better just to leave him be. 

When Bobby dropped Sam and Dean off at the Novak’s, Gabriel and Castiel were waiting outside with book bags on their backs.

“School doesn’t start ‘till Monday,” Dean pointed out. There was no point to a backpack on Wednesday. 

“We’re going on a field trip, Dean-o,” Gabriel responded.

“Really?” Sam’s face lit up. At his age, it was easy to forget how worried you were and be excited. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, Kiddo.” Gabe handed him a sucker, pulled out his own, and marched forward to lead them. 

It was a long walk to their mystery destination and the sun was relentless. Castiel’s book bag produced four bottles of water at Dean’s request, but soon those were gone and their legs were getting tired. When Sam insisted he was too tired to keep walking, Gabriel passed his backpack off to Dean and let Sam climb onto his back. Twenty minutes after that, he announced that they were finally there. 

“We walked five miles in the scorching heat for a boarded up church?” Dean stared at the building before him, unimpressed. When he noticed Castiel’s frown, though, he felt like apologizing. 

“Fun fact about my dad, Winchester, is that he built this church. Preached out of it till the day my mom took off. They boarded it up about a year ago, but it still belongs to our family so here it stays.” Gabriel led them around the back while he talked, finally setting Sam down so he could search for something. “And if you press on these boards just right…” He pulled against one piece of plywood and pushed against another until they creaked and bent. Another shove from his shoulder and the wood slipped past the door frame and the door popped open. “Tada!”

Sam was inside in an instant, marveling at the beauty of the church. After twelve years of disuse it was dusty and dull, but it was easy to imagine how the stained glass windows once shined and the pews once held dozens of people. 

“There is more, though,” Castiel spoke, taking the lead this time. Sam, Dean, and Gabriel followed him up the aisle and around the pew to a small door that they hadn’t even noticed. It swung open easily to reveal a set of stairs, so they followed Castiel up until the reached the loft. 

“Wow,” Dean breathed. 

Where the rest of the church looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, the loft was filled with signs of use and comfort. There were books stacked neatly on dust free shelves, a shaggy carpet that stretched across the middle of the room, and several beanbags littering the corners. There was even what looked like one of the pews converted into a makeshift couch.

“This is were Gabriel and I go when we need to escape,” Cas explained. He sat down on the carpet put the book bag in front of him. “It is our safe house, so to speak.”

“Why bring us here?” Dean asked, not understanding why they would share something so personal with them. Sam waited for an answer too, eyes wide with wonder.

Castiel smiled at the brothers. “We wanted to share it with you.” 

Gabe, who had been busy over in the corner with something, finally turned and put a hand on his hip. “Yep. So welcome to our loft. No grownups or girls allowed, no sulking or groaning or moaning, and most certainly no worrying. This is a fun only zone.” He turned back around and Dean saw that he’d been fiddling with a record player. Gabe set the needle on the track and it began to play.

Dean’s grin was immediate. “Pieces of Eight. I love this album.”

“Gotta love Styx,” Gabe agreed, dropping down to the carpet and rifling through his own backpack.

Dean saw Cas roll his eyes. “I believe we threatened to educate you about music before. Consider this the beginning.” Gabe returned his conspiratorial grin.

They began to empty the backpacks, and before long there was a veritable feast spread out before them on the carpet. It looked like the Novaks had raided their entire kitchen plus a candy store, but Sam and Dean weren’t complaining. 

Sam took the Tupperware of chicken salad that Cas offered him an dug in, the worry that this might be their last day together temporarily forgotten. Dean took his own Tupperware, filled with leftover lasagna that Anna made the night before, and dug into it with fervor. 

“I’d break out the beer, but you guys are way too young for that. Get back to me in a few years, huh?” Gabe laughed and took a sip of his sickly-sweet koolaid. 

His comment snapped reality back into place and both of the Winchesters frowned. “Might not be around in a few years,” Sam mumbled, sticking his fork into a piece of chicken like it had personally offended him. “Might be leaving tomorrow.”

Gabriel frowned and set his own Tupperware of fruit loops down. “Your dad’s gonna have a hell of a time getting you out of here if he tries. I’ll slash his tires if I have to.”

“Gabriel,” Cas scolded quietly, but his heart wasn’t into it. 

Dean took a deep breath and plastered on the most confident smile he could muster. “Relax, guys. We’re not going anywhere.”

Nobody challenged him, but it remained in the back of their thoughts for the entire day. They laughed at jokes and argued over who got to pick the next album, chased each other through the pews and around the church’s lot until they were sweaty and exhausted. They caught a bird and let it go, watched the clouds and wrestled in the dirt, then finally trudged back home in the almost-dark, each committing every detail of the day to memory just in case it was their last. 

\--

“Sit down, boys,” Bobby said when they were both showered and redressed and ready for dinner. They sat down on the same side of the dinner table, ignoring the logic of one person per side. Bobby sat at the head of the table and, after some grumbling, John sat at the other end. Nobody touched the food in front of them. 

“After some… negotiating,” Bobby said in a tone that suggested there was more arguing than actual negotiating, “we’ve come to an agreement.” Dean opened his mouth to say something, but one look from Bobby made him snap it shut. “This is going to require some work on your part as well. John?”

John buttered a roll from the basket, but didn’t seem eager to make the announcement. After a moment, Bobby got the hint and continued. “I’ve got some extra money saved up that I don’t have much use for, since I don’t have myself any brats to put through college. Your daddy’s gonna use that to get you all an apartment here in Lawrence.” There were twin gasps and the boys looked like they were going to pop with the effort of restraining their excitement, but they waited for Bobby to finish. “He’s going to get a job here and he’s going to keep it,” that part came with a stern look at John, “and you boys are going to help out.”

“How? I’ll do anything I can, but Sammy cant get a job. He’s only six,” Dean looked worried already. 

“You two are going to go to school. You’re already enrolled, we just gotta get you a few more odds and ends. You’re gonna go to school and bring home good grades and make your daddy proud.” They were both nodding with complete agreement. “Dean, you’re going to stick around the shop sometimes and help me out a bit. I’ll teach everything you want to know about cars and I’ll pay you six bucks an hour to help me fix ‘em. The better you get, the more I’ll pay you. Sam, I know you like reading so you’re gonna help me alphabetize my damn library. I’ll pay you for it too.”

Finally he looked up to John, who seemed to be trying to melt into the back of his chair. “And John, I’m going to fix up that beauty of a car you tried to turn into scrap metal and I’m going to give it back to you like it was brand new, and you are not going to touch anything alcoholic for the rest of your damn life.”

Bobby looked around the table, assessing each of the Winchesters, then nodded. “Right. Now lets eat. I‘m starvin’.”

\--

When the Winchester boys came tumbling out of Bobby’s backseat the next day, Gabriel and Castiel were already waiting outside for them. There were shrieks of joy and lots of jumping up and down and even John couldn’t resist cracking a smile. Michael and Anna came forward and introduced themselves, telling John that Sam and Dean were welcome any time and that they were wonderful kids. 

Gabriel shook John’s hand too, promising that, as the eldest of the group, he would be sure to look after Dean and Sam like they were family. Because that’s what they were, really. Castiel shyly introduced himself as well, saying that he liked Sam and Dean very much and thank you for letting them stay. John grumbled and muttered this and that, but even he couldn’t hide that he was happy to see his boys in good hands. 

The rest of the week was spent school shopping, apartment hunting, and enjoying the last few days of summer vacation before they were sucked into ‘another year of carefully planned torture’ as Gabe put it. Sam was the most excited. He’d been to a few kindergartens, but first grade was a much bigger deal and he couldn’t wait to learn as much as he could. Dean complained that they should be putting him in second grade at least, but Sam was happy with just being able to go to school. 

Dean himself was going into fifth grade and the only good part about that was he’d be in elementary with Sam for a year before he started middle school and they were kept apart. One year was plenty enough to spread the word that his little brother was not to be messed with. One year to set the record straight and then he’d get to be in middle school with Cas for a year before he was on his own.

Gabe was starting high school, but he wasn’t excited. “A whole new set of teachers I have to learn about before I can prank. So much work.” He felt better after Dean pointed out that this was his opportunity to start planning the best senior prank Lawrence Kansas had ever seen. 

\--

They day before school started, up in the loft of the church, Led Zeppelin played in the background as the four of them made a pact. No parent, sibling, friend or enemy was going to pull them apart for all of their lives. The four of them were going to stick together, kick ass, and take names.

And so it began.


	2. 1989

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I wasn't planning on cranking out another chapter of this quite so fast, but apparently everyone really likes the first chapter! o.o So here's another one. It might take me a little bit to get on a regular updating schedule. These chapters are long and I'm trying to make them more of a story and less of a notebook of every single headcanon I have for young Dean/Sam/Cas/Gabe. I just have so many ideas ughh.
> 
> Now, for the important stuff!
> 
> -Since this fic will span over a lot of years, I figured I'd make a chart. Mostly for me so I can keep their ages and grades straight, but I figured I'd share it with you. The chapter title will be the year the chapter takes place, so you can figure out their ages based on that. [Click here for the chart.](http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2014/094/1/4/tlr_age_charts_by_fehnryr-d7cz35a.png)
> 
> -This particular chapter takes place in the same year as the first chapter. Sam is 6, Dean is 10, Castiel is 11 about to turn 12, and Gabriel is 14.
> 
> -I googled as much about Kansas school systems as I could, but that stuff is hard as hell to figure out. So for the sake of this fic, Lawrence Elementary, Middle, and High are all on the same campus. I will draw up a map and include it in the next chapter. School also starts in mid-august. I truly apologize for taking so much liberty in the construction of Lawrence, but this is a fanfiction and a hobby and my google-fu is lacking. 
> 
> Not beta'd, so please let me know if you find any errors! More notes at the end because I talk too much.

**August**

“Spit the gum out, Novak.”

Gabriel frowned and leaned over the garbage can, opening his mouth wide and letting the wad of pink bubblegum roll off his tongue. He kept his eyes locked on the teacher’s the entire time, and she certainly wasn’t impressed. “You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s on your schedule. Sit down.” No nonsense. Gabriel huffed and started toward the back of the room, but the bespectacled woman cleared her throat loudly. “Front and center.”

He’d only been to two of his seven classes, but it was clear that his middle school teachers had sent ahead a warning to all of his high school teachers. They knew who he was and what to expect and they weren't going to let him get away with anything. Or so they thought. 

“I’m flattered,” he quipped, dropping his candy-heavy backpack on the rickety desk. 

The class started and Gabriel popped another piece of double-bubble into his mouth the second Mrs. Crankypants turned her back. He spent the class mastering the art of only chewing when she was looking the other way. The two girls to the right of him caught on pretty quickly and tried not to giggle, so he tossed them each a piece and they joined in the game. Before long the entire class was playing chew-stop-chew-stop and Gabriel was almost out of gum. 

When the bell rang, Gabriel blew a bubble nearly the size of his head, saluted the class, and popped it loudly. The teacher’s eyes bugged out from behind her glasses and he allowed her a grin. “Thanks for the lesson, Miss!”

The rest of the day dragged on in a similar fashion, Gabriel testing out each teacher and seeing what he could get away with so far. He made friends easily, as always, because only the straight-A kids hated class clowns. Still, he remembered this being a lot more fun than it actually was. It wasn’t until lunch that he realized what was missing.

Gabriel had made a habit of popping in on Castiel’s classes with fake notes from the attendance offices or lunch that he hadn’t actually forgotten just to check up on him. He’d spent days planning elaborate revenge pranks every time somebody tripped Castiel in the hall or shoved him into a locker. The one time a boy dared to attempt a swirly on Castiel, he’d been greeted by a locker full of roaches two weeks in a row. It wasn’t the most creative, but Gabriel’s temper dampened the humor aspect of his pranks. 

This year Gabriel was stuck in high school, though, which was on the other side of the faculty office from the middle school. He wouldn’t even have enough time to sneak over between classes. Dean could be trusted to watch over Castiel, but he wouldn’t be in middle school until next year. Castiel was alone and it was eating Gabriel alive. 

Freshman year was going to be miserable. 

\--

School had never been easy for Castiel. He excelled at the subjects that interested him, but school was never designed for those who were great at _some_ things. It demanded that its students be _okay_ at everything. Of course, this left two open ends for teasing. “Castiel the nerd is the English Teacher’s Pet” and “Castiel the loser sucks at volleyball.” It wasn’t so bad when Gabriel was there to glue people’s tennis shows to the floor and swap their math homework for penis-drawings, but now he was alone and the only safe place, the library, was still closed for inventory. 

He survived Math, his first period, and was glad that he’d decided to study over the summer. He would be able to keep up in his class for the first few weeks, at least. Science was a bit more difficult. The teacher was a squat old lady who, Castiel suspected, didn’t actually have a soul. They were forced into pairs to do some experiment involving pennies and water droppers. Castiel’s partner, a kid named Howard, squirted the dropper full of water across the table at this friend rather than using it for their assignment. This brought on a mini water squirting war that ended with the teacher screeching about them being immature brats and demanding that they clean up the mess right this instant. Castiel sighed and stood to get paper towels, but he got an earful of water for his troubles. Howard cackled and his friends joined in.

Spanish and History weren’t so bad. Castiel loved languages, so any fear of being tormented by his peers was quickly forgotten as he dove into the Spanish textbook. He’d been studying that over the summer as well and already knew the material from the first four chapters. It was almost a challenge not to raise his hand and answer the teacher’s questions. History was nice because Sam was fascinated with history and Castiel had spent a good portion of the summer discussing it with him. He’d checked out picture books from the library and they’d learned all about the different monuments and wars together. Some of the imagery was far too graphic for a first grader, but Sam never batted an eyelash. Sam would like this class.

It wasn’t until P.E. that Castiel’s fears came true. Science had just been annoying, but now he was forced to run around a track in ugly shorts and a rumpled gym shirt with forty other kids. He nearly fell on his face as a pack of football players lapped him, each one knocking into one of his shoulders. Then they were informed that the first week would be, oh joy, volleyball. The locker rooms were the worst though. Even off in his corner, undressing and redressing as quickly as possible, Castiel couldn’t drown out the taunts of, “Quick, get your pants on Brady! Cas-tay-eel is going to use your body to fuel his gay fantasies!” and “Hey nerd boy, where’s your Queen of a brother? Though he was supposed to come kick my ass!” Castiel left in a hurry, but he knew this was only the beginning of a long year. He headed to English, hoping his favorite class would be enough to end his day on a decent note. 

Seventh grade was going to be miserable. 

\--

Dean just didn’t know what to do. He felt trapped the moment he stepped through the hideously painted bright red door to Mrs. Field’s fifth grade class. He’d never entered a classroom with the knowledge that he would be stuck here for the entire year. If he made mistakes, he couldn’t just up and leave them behind. If he made enemies, he was stuck with them.

His leg bounced under his chair for the entirety of the math and science lessons. He caught a few words here and there, but it was impossible to focus. Beside him one of the kids was carving a drawing into the surface of his desk with a pencil, and the scraping noise was driving him crazy. He shifted again and started drumming Metallica beats with his feet. 

By the time recess came around, he was so restless that he ran around the track twice to get out some of his energy. He kept an eye out for Sam’s class, but first grade took their lunch earlier so he was probably back inside already. Still hyper, he challenged some kids in his class to monkey bar races and won every single race until his hands were burning and blistered. The only nice part about going back to class was being able to press his hands against the cool desk. 

It didn’t last long, though. Halfway through reading-time, Dean was scratching a hole in his desk with a pencil and bouncing his knee so hard the chair was creaking. The kid behind him kicked his seat hard to make him stop. 

Fifth grade was going to be miserable. 

\--

Sam’s expectations were high. The classroom smelled like play-dough and pencil shavings and his teacher, Ms. Shelley, was pretty and nice. He had two brand new wide-ruled notebooks, a pack of number two pencils, a big green eraser, and a sixty-four pack of crayons. They weren’t moving in a month, or in two months, or even in three months, and if he got really lucky he might even have time to work his way up to student of the week. 

When Ms. Shelley passed out their first assignment, he was ready to go. Each of them got a big sheet of paper with wide lines and a box at the top. “Use the box to draw what you did this summer,” Ms. Shelley instructed, “and then write a few sentences about it.” 

Sam was terrible at drawing, but he scribbled out a stick figure hanging over a dock with two more stick figures holding on to its feet. A fourth stood by and watched with only one shoe on his foot. Knowing the teacher wouldn’t be able to understand the picture, he launched into the tale about how he met his best friends in the whole world. He filled up the fat lines quickly, even though he wrote extra small so he could double the space. He wasn’t finished with his story, though, so he pulled out his notebook and wrote another page and a half. When he was done he went up to ask Ms. Shelley if he could borrow her stapler. 

When she saw his work, her face lit up and she asked if she could read it to the class. Sam nodded and stood next to her, beaming with pride, as she read it out loud.

“That’s dumb, why did the one boy jump off the dock?” one of the girls in the front row asked. 

“He was trying to get my shoe,” Sam explained. 

Another boy rolled his eyes. “The Cas-tell person sounds boring. Who would want to read books all day?”

“Castiel’s not boring!” Sam clutched his paper to his chest.

“Boring, boring!” 

Sam returned to his seat and started to fix the spelling errors the teacher had pointed out. His eyes burned, but he wasn’t going to cry on his first day of school. Five minutes later, a ball of wadded up paper hit him in the head. He smoothed it out on his desk and studied it for a moment, then looked up to find the thrower. “Freak is spelled with an e and an a, not two e’s,” he announced.

Sam wasn’t about to be friends with anyone that called Castiel boring, so when recess started he sat on a bench and pulled out a book. He only got three pages in before one of the kids in his glass dumped their milk carton on it and ran away singing, “Boring, boring!”

First grade was going to be miserable. 

\--

When the bell rang at the end of the day, two Winchesters and two Novaks found their way to the flagpole in the huge courtyard and huddled together against the escaping students. Gabriel looked like he’d smelled something nasty, Castiel looked exhausted, Dean looked like he’d had six cups of coffee, and Sam just looked mad. 

“To Bobby’s?” Gabe asked. It had been the agreement, since his house was closest.

They were about to head out when a boy Sam’s age walked up with a big grin on his face. “Hi Sam! Which one is boring Cas-tell?” He laughed like he’d just said the most clever thing in the world. 

Sam shrieked and leapt on him. They crashed into the concrete in a tangle of backpacks and limbs, howling like fighting cats. Gabriel and Dean both surged forward, pulling the boys apart with difficulty. Sam kicked and screamed and the other boy wailed. His face was bleeding from what had obviously been Sam’s nails, and an older boy, probably his brother, ran up to collect him. 

Apologies were made and the boy was ushered away, and Gabriel carried Sam the whole way home while Sam sobbed into his shoulder.

Bobby was in the garage when they arrived. “How was school?”

“Dumb,” Sam muttered, not looking up from where his face was buried against Gabriel’s neck.

“Crap,” Dean agreed.

“It could have been worse,” Castiel offered, trying to be optimistic. 

“Total shit,” Gabriel summarized.

“Well, it sounds like you had a great time!” Bobby dropped his grease rag and pulled off his hat to scratch his head. “What do normal kids do after school? You eat a snack or something, right?”

Over BLT’s and root beer, they commiserated. 

 

**September**

One day in early September, John came home and announced that his job hunting had paid off and he was successfully employed. 

“It’s a gun shop about three blocks down from those kids you’re always glued to,” he told his sons. “And I think I found a place for us to stay, but you’re gonna hate it.” His expression was hard but there was a strange glint in his eye.

They all piled into one of Bobby’s trucks since the Impala was still in shambles. The radio played one of Dean’s favorite Zeppelin songs, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the nervous feeling in his gut. What if it was really far from Cas and Gabe? What if it was really tiny? What if it smelled like a motel room? 

“Are Cas and Gabe coming to see our new house too?” Sam asked when they came to a stop. Dean looked up and saw that they were parked outside of the Novak’s apartment building.

“Something like that,” John muttered. “Come on.” They piled out and both Sam and Dean took off toward the Novak apartment, but John caught them both by the backs of their shirts and held them off. “Wrong way.”

“Dad?” Dean gaped when they came to a stop at apartment 107, one hallway over from the Novak’s. 

“Dean?” John allowed himself a grin and unlocked the door.

“Holy CRAP!” Dean yelped, sprinting into the unfurnished apartment. “For real?”

Sam’s eyes were so wide he looked like a bush baby. “Are we staying here? Is this ours? We’re gonna live here?” He touched the door frame like it was going to disappear.

“All ours, boys. That Michael kid ain’t half bad. He let me know it had opened up and it’s pretty cheap to live here. Probably won’t have cable for a while, but I’ll see what I can do about a TV for movies.”

John started to say something else, but both of his sons were already one hallway over, banging on the Novak door to tell Castiel and Gabriel. John rolled his eyes and smiled. 

\--

Anna answered the door. 

“Is Cas and Gabe here?” Sam stood on his toes to peek around her. 

“Uh, I don’t know if it’s the best time…” She glanced back into the house and Dean heard crying.

“What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?” Their smiles were gone.

“Castiel is having a bit of a meltdown…” From behind Anna, they could hear yelling.

“Get out of my room NOW GABRIEL I DON’T CARE!”

“It wasn’t my FUCKING FAULT!”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Gabriel!” Michael hollered after him, obviously at the end of his rope. Two doors slammed and there was silence.

Anna sighed. “Maybe you could talk some sense into them?”

Sam headed to Gabriel’s room and Dean took Castiel’s. They didn’t bother knocking.

“Get out, I hate you!” Castiel sobbed into the pillow when the door opened.

Dean frowned. “It’s me, Cas.”

“Oh.”

Dean surveyed the room. Castiel was face down, crying into an already damp pillow. There was a book near the door that had clearly been thrown at somebody and, next to the bed, there was an open shoebox. Dean took a step forward and frowned.

“Is that?”

“He _killed him_ ,” Castiel wailed. 

In the box was Mr. Nutters, Castiel’s pet guinea pig. There was a tissue lain gently over his small body, but Dean could see his paws peeking out from beneath it. He kneeled down and placed the lid on the box, then crawled on the bed and pulled Cas up into a hug. 

\--

“I didn’t kill him!” Gabriel demanded. He was pacing back and forth in his room and Sam was sitting on his bed, watching. “It’s not my fault he got out last night. His cage just wasn’t shut all the way and he came in my room and ate a bunch of candy.”

It wouldn’t have been hard. There were candy wrappers discarded on the floor and nerds smashed into the carpet from the box that they’d spilled weeks ago. 

They’d found him in the closet that morning, glossy-eyed and clearly sick. He hadn’t made it to the vet.

“Now Cas hates me and it’s not my fault. I didn’t like the little fucker in the first place- he bit me like four times- but I wouldn’t kill him. You believe me, right?”

Sam nodded. “Can we get him another Mr. Nutters?”

“He doesn’t want another guinea pig. I offered and he started throwing books at me.”

\--

Three hours later, the four of them found themselves in the woods behind the apartment with two shovels. Cas held the box protectively, sitting on the ground and staring into space. Gabriel sat on a stump apart from him, arms crossed.

“It’s gotta be deep so nothing digs it up,” Sam instructed as Dean drove the shovel into the dirt again. They were both digging, but Sam’s little kid shovel was barely helping. They were about three feet down when Gabe took over for Dean.

Castiel placed Mr. Nutters at the bottom of the hole, adding a bag of his favorite treats and his rickety wheel toy, then he stepped back and nodded. Sam grabbed Castiel’s hand and they watched as Dean and Gabriel filled in the hole, movements slow from exhaustion and the heat. 

\--

Castiel didn’t talk to Gabriel for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the week. They went over to the Winchester’s new apartment and helped Dean put up the posters Bobby bought him and Sam put together his IKEA bookshelf. They bought duct tape to divide Sam’s side from Dean’s side and drew on it with black markers so it would look cooler. The entire time, Castiel didn’t exchange a single word with Gabriel. 

Things were no better in the Novak home. Anna begged Castiel to give Gabriel a chance to apologize. Michael told them they were being ridiculous. Lucifer started calling Gabriel “Hamster-Killer.” 

Friday eventually came. It was usually Gabriel’s favorite day, because he wouldn’t get in trouble for any pranks he played until Monday. He wasn’t in the mood for pranks today, though. He didn’t chew gum in English class. He didn’t chase girls with dead frogs in biology. He barely paid any attention in culinary either, which was rare. He was just considering skipping the rest of his classes when a waving hand caught his attention. There was somebody at the classroom door, trying to get his attention through the small window.

“Gotta pee,” he announced to the teacher. She was elbow deep in a mixing bowl and busy yelling at one of the students for confusing sugar and salt, so she didn’t even notice. He let himself out of the class.

“Come,” the kid gasped, taking off down the hall. Gabriel hated running, but he followed the kid anyway. Judging by the look of him he was in middle school, which meant that this was probably one of his candy-bribed informants. He’d gotten the idea one week into school and recruited a handful of kids that had classes with Castiel, offering them candy and the occasional five dollar bill to keep an eye on his brother. 

Sure enough they burst out of the high school building and around the back of the office building, heading straight for the middle school gym. The kid pointed to the locker rooms and Gabriel slammed through the door, following the sound of shouts to the back corner. 

Two football players were latched onto a squirming Castiel, holding him over a garbage can. “Quit flailing nerd,” one of them laughed, pinning Castiel’s wrists to his sides. They shoved him into the can and a third clapped the lid on it. 

They didn’t even have time to start laughing at their success before Gabriel was on them. He grabbed one by the face and slammed his head back into a locker, then lunged at another one with a shout. The garbage can tipped over and crashed to the ground, spilling out Castiel and a slew of trash. Gabriel took one look at his brother lost it.

\--

“You didn’t have to do that,” Castiel said. The first words he’d spoken to his brother in six days.

Gabriel stared at his bloody knuckles and shrugged. He hurt all over and his mouth tasted like blood, but having Castiel talk to him again was almost worth it. He smiled, then groaned because his jaw hurt. Apparently twelve year old football kids could pack a punch.

“I’m sorry about Mr. Nutters,” he finally said. “I won’t leave candy on the floor anymore.”

Cas looked confused for a minute, then he smiled. “Okay.”

Then the three boys marched out of the principals office, two with ice packs and one with a paper towel shoved up his nose. Gabriel saluted them with a wide grin and they gave him scathing glares.

The principal called out, “Gabriel Novak?”

\--

Gabriel was suspended for two weeks. _Dick_ Roman, because Gabriel liked to emphasize their principal’s first name, had wanted the sentence to be longer, but one of the guidance councilors had stepped in and said that if he missed that much school at the start of the year he’d fail. Principal Roman didn’t seem to be concerned about whether he passed or failed until Ms. Mosley kindly pointed out that every year Gabriel failed was another year he was a student at Lawrence High. Gabriel liked Ms. Mosley.

In the time he was gone, Gabriel became something of a legend in the middle school. The tale of how he swooped in and saved his little brother from three football players spread like wildfire. Gabriel’s informant never came forward, so it was assumed that Gabriel had psychic big-brother instincts. Needless to say, seventh grade became a lot easier for Castiel. 

In fact, knowing Gabriel seemed to have a positive effect on Sam and Dean’s schooling as well. Everyone in Sam’s class wanted to hear a first hand account of not-boring-Gabriel’s super awesome fighting powers and Dean spent his nervous energy doodling epic fight scenes in a worn out notebook, wondering if he could fight like that if he tried hard enough. 

For the first time all year, it looked like freshman year, seventh grade, fifth grade, and first grade weren’t going to be so miserable after all.

**October**

The second the calendars read October, Dean and Gabriel were absolutely obsessed with their Halloween plans. They began putting together their meager savings to buy toilet paper and eggs, and drawing maps of the town and circling the houses of anyone who looked twice at Sam or Castiel at school. Dick Roman’s house was circled extra-big. 

“I don’t care whose house you’re gonna egg, Dean, I wanna know what to dress up as!” Sam complained on October fifth, when Dean was checking the couch cushions for spare change to add to their egg fund. 

“We can cut some holes out of a sheet and you can be a ghost,” Dean offered, not paying much attention. He pried a nickel out of the crevice and tossed it to Gabriel.

“That’s what I did last year,” Sam groaned. He flopped full-bodied onto the couch.

“Gabriel and I usually go as angels. It’s unoriginal, but an easy costume considering our names.” Castiel was sitting at the kitchen table working on an essay for school.

Gabriel grimaced. “That stopped being fun the year Lucifer decided to follow us around in a red latex devil costume.” Castiel nodded in agreement. 

“We should go as Zombies,” Dean finally said, giving up his pursuit of stray coins. He sat on the kitchen table, conveniently in the way of Castiel’s studying. Castiel gave him a sour look, but collected his work and tucked it back into his bag. 

“Zombies are nearly the least creative costume option there is. Personally I would like to go as a bumble bee. They’re lovely creatures and rarely used as a Halloween costume.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, people dress babies up as bees. Sam aside, we’re a little older than that.”

“I’m not a baby!” Sam threw one of the sofa pillows at his brother but missed by several feet.

Gabriel retrieved the pillow, walked to the couch and sat on Sam. “What about pirates?”

“Get off, Gabriel!”

“Pirates are cool. They steal shit and get booty.”

“Gaaaaaabe!”

“Booty is a slang term for treasure, which makes your point about stealing things redundant,” Castiel informed him.

Gabriel was about to tell his dictionary of a brother to stuff it when the door slammed and John walked into the living room. Gabriel leapt off Sam and Dean slid off the kitchen table, but both received looks of disapproval. 

“Forgot my lunch,” John explained, heading toward the fridge. “You boys should go play outside.”

One by one they filtered outside and crossed the street to the park. Sam held hands with Dean and Gabriel the whole way there, but when Gabriel caught John watching them he took his hand away and busied himself with a candy wrapper. 

“I get the feeling your dad doesn’t like me,” he finally said when they had commandeered the swings for their own.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” Dean sighed. “But anyway, pirates?”

\--

It took almost all of October for them to decide on costumes. They battled between Zombies and Pirates for what seemed like forever before Bobby finally dragged them to a thrift store and gave them each ten bucks. Castiel found a hideous black and yellow striped sweater two sizes too big and announced that he was going to be a bumble bee whether they liked it or not. Dean found the perfect pirate outfit complete with some old woman’s gold bangle bracelets and a ratty brown satchel. Gabriel was determined to find a pirate costume as well, but ended up with a long white coat and a stethoscope. He tried to get Sam to dress up as a nurse, but Sam found some brown pants and a feather head dress and decided that he was going to be an Indian. 

Bobby was just glad he didn’t have to listen to them argue any more.

\--

On October thirty-first a bee, a pirate, a doctor and an Indian all set out to go trick-or-treating. Dean was in charge of the map that detailed their less than legal plans for later that night. Gabriel double checked their supply of eggs and toilet paper, carefully hidden in his closet.

“Where’s Michael?” Sam asked when Gabriel and Castiel met them outside.

“He has to work and extra shift at the clinic tonight,” Castiel explained. “Anna isn’t feeling well, so he left Lucifer in charge.”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Gabriel muttered as Lucifer sauntered over to them in the red latex costume they’d been warned about.

“Got a party tonight, kiddos. You’re on your own. Tell Michael I was watching you the whole time. You’ve got about two hours to collect candy and one hour go get your egg on. We’re expected back at Casa Novak by ten p.m. Have fun!”

“How’d he know about the egging?” Dean complained. The last thing they needed was for Michael or John to find out.

“Despite their differences, Gabriel learned nearly all of his tricks and bad ideas from Lucifer. I imagine he knew simply because that’s what he’d be doing tonight if he didn’t have a party to attend.”

“Less talk, more candy,” Gabriel demanded. They were off.

Dean and Gabriel were in the lead, their enthusiasm for trick-or-treating nearly overwhelming. Castiel and Sam fell a few houses behind. “I don’t think they should be doing this tonight,” Castiel admitted to Sam as they studied a gruesome jack-o-lantern.

Sam eyed the pumpkin warily. “Will they get in trouble?”

“Most likely. Throwing eggs at somebody’s house can cause permanent damage to the paint or break windows. The toilet paper can be just as bad if it happens to rain before they clean it up.”

Sam was starting to look nervous. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Come on, slow-pokes! You’re way behind!” Gabriel and Dean rejoined their brothers.

Sam tugged on Dean’s sleeve. “Dean, please don’t throw eggs at houses. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to get in trouble, Sammy. You don’t even have to help. Cas can watch you, right?”

Castiel nodded reluctantly. “I don’t wish for you to get in trouble either. If your father grounds you, we won’t be able to see each other for a while.” 

“Don’t worry, Cas.” Dean threw an arm over Castiel’s shoulder, careful to avoid his makeshift bumblebee wings. “It’ll be fine.”

\--

It turned out that Sam wouldn’t have been able to participate even if he wanted to. An hour and a half into their candy collecting, Sam could barely stay on his feet. Being the oldest, Gabriel got stuck with piggy-back duty again and Dean had to carry Sam’s bag of candy. They finished their rounds about twenty minutes later and Sam was fast asleep. 

They took him back to the Novak house where they dropped off their candy and picked up their supplies. Gabriel carried Sam up to his room and tucked him in to bed. “Cas is gonna stay here if you need anything, okay? Me and Dean will be back later.”

“Dean and I,” Sam corrected as his eyelids slid shut again. He snuggled into Gabriel’s pillow and fell asleep. 

\--

Red, white, and blue woke Sam from his nap. His first thought was that it wasn’t the right holiday for those colors to be flashing outside the window. His second thought sent him stumbling out of bed and into the Novak’s living room where he found Gabriel seated on the couch looking bored and Michael speaking with a cop. 

Dean had managed to escape, but Gabriel had been caught throwing an egg through Dick Roman’s window and Sheriff Mills had arrested him. She seemed to think it was more amusing than anything, but Michael was furious. 

 

**November**

With Gabriel grounded, November was long and uneventful.

 

**December**

Dean was beginning to think of this as a year of firsts. His first permanent location, his first best friends, and now Gabriel’s first time getting arrested. It was even their first time with a Christmas tree. The lopsided pine wasn’t as impressive as the one Lucifer and Anna had come home with a few days ago, but it was Dean's and Sam’s and that was all that mattered. They’d even clipped off a few branches and carried them out to the church loft for good measure.

As Christmas neared, a few lumpy gifts wrapped in newspaper began to collect under the tree. A wreath made from beer cans decorated the door and Gabriel’s candy cane collection made an appearance in the form of empty wrappers around Sam and Dean’s room. 

Castiel had broken out his sweater collection in earnest. Dean knew that Castiel was a fan of sweaters, but he’d never expected the extent of it. Most of them were subdued, plain colors like tan and blue, but some where downright outlandish. Dean suspected they were gifts from Gabriel and Lucifer. 

On Christmas Eve, Michael invited the Winchesters plus Bobby to dinner at the Novak house. It was a crowded affair, but Anna and Gabriel had been left to the cooking and it smelled like heaven. 

“Who knew you could make anything that wasn’t at least fifty percent candy?” Dean joked when Gabriel carried out a dish full of rice and mushrooms. 

“How nice of you,” Gabriel retorted. “Did I mention I poisoned the pie?”

\--

Castiel could hear the dinner commotion from his room, but chose to stay behind his safely shut door and finish wrapping gifts. The stack of finished gifts was set neatly to one side and the ones to be wrapped were on the other. He had the paper laid out in front of him and the scissors and tape beside that. There was order to it, and that was calming. There was no order to be found in a Christmas eve party.

It was Dean that finally noticed he was missing from the commotion and sought him out. 

“You know,” he said as he slipped into Castiel’s room and shut the door behind him, “you’d think with a family as big as yours that you’d be a social butterfly.”

“Solitude is more peaceful,” Cas shrugged as he pressed a piece of tape in place. Sometimes Castiel suspected that all of the ‘social butterfly’ gene had been used up before it got to him. Michael was charming, Lucifer was eccentric, Anna was sweet as could be, and Gabriel was his own brand of outgoing that couldn’t be labeled. But before Dean and Sam had come along, Castiel wouldn’t even speak to anyone he wasn’t directly related to. He remembered how shocked Gabriel had been when he opened his mouth and introduced himself to Dean Winchester they day they met.

“Why’d you do it?” Gabriel had asked later when they went home. “I’d was beginning to suspect you were allergic to social interaction and then you nearly throw yourself off a dock to save some kid you’ve never met. What gives?”

Castiel hadn’t been sure then and he wasn’t sure now, but he was glad he did it. Something about Dean gave Castiel just a little more courage. He wasn’t so afraid to open his mouth and say something that sounded like it came out of a textbook because even if he did, Dean would still like him. Sam would think it was the coolest thing in the world. And if somebody decided to shove him into a locker for it or drop him in a trashcan, Gabriel would be there to kick some ass, Dean would be there to calm him down, and Sam would be there to cheer up him.

Dean had settled in next to Castiel quietly, allowing him time to think. That was another reason Castiel loved Dean’s company. Sam was too young to understand when Castiel needed time to think and Gabriel was too high strung. Dean, though, was perfectly content waiting for Castiel to snap out of his thoughts and come back to planet earth. 

“Is dinner ready?” Castiel finally asked, picking up the last unwrapped gift and setting it on the paper.

“Should be. Lucifer’s supposed to be slicing the ham. Not sure I trust him with a knife.”

Castiel folded the paper over the book he’d bought for Michael and pressed tape to the seams. Dean passed him a name tag sticker and Castiel scrawled his oldest brother’s name across it. “I suppose I should join you, then.” He stood and brushed the scraps of wrapping paper off of his jeans. It was just dinner. With a lot of people.

“Hey,” Dean stopped him before he got to the door. “Between Lucifer and Gabriel and Sam, you wouldn’t get a chance to talk even if you wanted to. It’ll be fine.” He gave Castiel one of his wide grins and a clap on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Dean.”

\--

With a little help from Bobby and Michael, the boys had all been able to purchase small gifts for each other. After dinner, dessert, and a fair amount of pleading, it was agreed that they could open their gifts from each other on Christmas Eve. There was an assortment of books, movies, records and candy passed between them, all received with squawks of delight and several enthusiastic hugs, mostly from Sam. 

As Dean had promised, the night was bearable. The company was pleasant and Castiel had no trouble sitting back and watching quietly as his brothers and Sam took the spotlight. Dean joined him in the corner chair that was just big enough for the two of them and they watched Sam and Gabriel play a card game. Sam didn’t really understand the rules, but there was laughter aplenty and that was all that really mattered.

“I like it here,” Dean admitted, leaning back into the chair’s cushion. Castiel and his sweater were just the right amount of warm and he was starting to get tired.

“In this chair?”

“In this chair. In this town. With you and Gabriel and Sam. Not in a crappy motel room with spaghettios for Christmas Eve dinner.”

It always made Castiel sad to remember the life Dean came from. It wasn’t as bad as others, but it wasn’t nearly the life he deserved. As John sat and laughed with Bobby at the living room table, Castiel couldn’t help but wonder if he might pick up and move his boys away some day without warning, like he’d been doing for their entire lives. The thought made a lump in his throat and he slipped his arm under Dean’s and pulled him closer.

“Don’t leave,” he said quietly. “Stay here and we can do this every year. We will celebrate all of the holidays together and go to middle and high school together, and then the four of us can go to college together as well.”

Dean smiled and leaned into Cas, closing his eyes and letting the warmth and good mood relax him to the brink of sleep. “I’d like that, Cas. I’d like that a lot.”

Castiel’s eyes were growing heavy as well. Sam and Gabriel were sharing a mug of hot cocoa on the sofa, watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Lucifer was sharpening a candy cane into a peppermint flavored dagger and Michael was looking at pictures with Anna. Bobby and John sat off to the side talking, separate but not out of place. 

Just before Castiel’s eyes finally drifted shut, he met John’s disapproving stare. John had made it clear how he felt about boys doing “girly shit”, and cuddling in a chair on Christmas Eve with another boy probably ranked high on that list. But tonight, Castiel didn’t care what anyone else thought. He was comfortable, he was happy, and he was home. 

\--

On December thirty first at eleven fifty-nine p.m., Dean, Cas, Sam, and Gabriel all sat on a Star Wars towel that they had spread over the grass at the park. From a boat far out in the lake, fireworks exploded upward and into the night sky. 

Everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Everything from "October" and on was added on 5/14/14, after the original posting of this chapter. I'm really sorry for doing that, but like I said I'm still working out the story. It was poor planning on my part, but I wanted each chapter to be one year and I wanted to write about their first holidays together! I hope you'll forgive me! /edit
> 
>  
> 
> Gah I hope that was okay. Like I said I'm trying to turn a billion disconnected ideas into a story that flows, so it's a bit fsjklajfd.
> 
> Just a few things I wanted to say. 
> 
> Where I can, I will use SPN characters. However the unimportant characters, such as Ms. Shelley and Mrs. Field, will just have made up names. I figure I'll mention it now so nobody's sitting there going, "what the hell episode was she from?" xD
> 
> I picture Dean having ADHD. I don't know why, but it just fits to me. He's a smart kid, as he's proved countless times in the show, but he just doesn't strike me as somebody that you could shove into a classroom and mold with lessons. I can't imagine him ever conforming to that. His ADHD may become important to the story at some point, but for now it's just a stress factor that makes him dislike school. 
> 
> Sam. Everything I've read has said a lot about learning to read in first/second grade and stuff, but I am basing Sam's learning progress off of my own and what I remember from school. For show and tell in second grade, I taught my class how to do square roots. (Well, I tried. They didn't get it.) So I apologize if Sam being able to read as much as he does in first grade seems weird, but it's certainly possible and Sam always was the smart cookie ;D
> 
> Lastly! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. They mean so much to me. I wasn't going to post another chapter for quite a while, but I couldn't leave you guys hanging after all that love! If you enjoy this chapter, let me know. 
> 
> If you wanted to say hi, my tumblr is Fehnryr. I post 90% SPN and 10% Sherlock/Avengers/Actors.
> 
> See you next chapter!


	3. 1990 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended to post each year as a chapter, but by the time I got to June I realized that splitting it up was pretty much mandatory. 
> 
> So here is 1990, January through June. I hope you enjoy it! More notes at the end <3

**January**

“It’s Dean’s birthday soon,” Sam informed Castiel one day. They were all at the library, but Dean was off in the automotive book section and Gabriel was flirting with one of the young librarian women. She just seemed to think he was adorable.

“When?” Castiel didn’t know what he could get Dean for his birthday. If he asked, Michael would give him a few dollars, but he would definitely need Sam’s help. 

“The twenty-fourth. Dad always forgets, so Dean doesn’t usually celebrate it. But Bobby says he remembers so were going to celebrate it this time.”

Castiel nodded and selected a Spanish children’s book from the shelf. He had a presentation for class and he was fairly sure he’d be able to read this one. Sam had found a book about dogs and what looked like a mystery novel, so they headed to the check out.

Apparently Sam got the news to Gabriel at some point as well, because when Castiel came out into the kitchen the next morning, he was sitting over the table with a cookbook about cakes. “Cas,” he said with wide eyes when he spotted his bedraggled brother, “which one?”

He’d clearly consumed at least two cups of coffee and Castiel had a hard time keeping up as he flipped through the pages. “This one has two layers with chocolate sauce and peanut butter icing, but I don’t know if Dean likes peanut butter. I know he likes pie, but who eats pie for their birthday?” He flipped a few pages. “This one’s chocolate and raspberry which sounds really good but I don’t know if raspberries are in season and I can’t just get raspberry syrup. That’s cheating.” 

Castiel was pretty sure Gabriel showed him every cake in the book, but they only managed to rule out six. “We should ask Sam,” he decided.

“How are we going to ask Sam without Dean finding out?”

Gabriel posed a point, but Castiel had an idea. “I’ll distract Dean at Bobby’s after school. You talk to Sam about it. Just keep the book in your backpack.” 

“Me actually carrying a backpack will be suspicious enough,” Gabriel pointed out, but Castiel just rolled his eyes and took Gabriel’s mug of coffee. 

“Mmm.” Coffee was good.

\--

Distracting Dean turned out to be easier than they thought it would be. Bobby finally got the Impala all laid out for repairs and Dean was front and center. He read from his auto book while Bobby was busy and handed over tools when they were requested. With some things, Bobby let him do the work and instructed him as he went. Castiel sat on a work bench and watched, making sure Dean didn’t go inside.

Sam and Gabriel huddled together on the couch, flipping through the pages and glancing nervously at the door. Sam wrote a list of all the ones he thought Dean would like best, then they went back and crossed off the ones that had too many ingredients. One required four separate cake tins, so they crossed that off too.

“This would be easier if you didn’t like cake so much, Gabriel.” Sam turned the page and saw that one of the cakes was pink. Dean didn’t like pink. He scratched it off the list with his crayon.

“How can you not like cake? What about the one with gummy worms on the top?”

“I think he’d like the m&m’s more…” 

They’d finally decided on one when the door swung open and Castiel made a panicked motion. Gabriel shoved the book in his bag and Sam sprawled out over the couch, trying to look innocent. 

Dean was too busy discussing radiators with Bobby to notice anything was wrong.

\--

Dean woke up on Wednesday, rolled over, and chucked his pillow at Sammy like he did every morning. “Up and at ‘em, tiger.” They had another long, miserable day of school to get through before they could go to Bobby’s and work on the Impala. While Sam got dressed, Dean went out and picked up the beer bottle that their dad had left on the counter. He didn’t want Sam to see it and tell Bobby, because part of their agreement had been that John would stop drinking. That hadn’t lasted much more than a month, but if Bobby found out, the resulting argument could end in them moving again. There was no way he was letting that happen.

Beer bottle successfully hidden away in the recycling bin, Dean ran back in his room, threw a flannel over his tee shirt, tugged a jacket on over that, and grabbed his backpack. “Ready?”

Sam came out of their room with his jacket half on and backpack dragging on the floor. His hair looked like birds had been nesting in it and his shoes were untied. Dean straightened his brother’s jacket wordlessly, smoothed out his hair and pulled his arms through the loops of his backpack. After so many years of playing parent for Sam, he was used to it. “Lets go. Gabriel said he was making pancakes.”

Sure enough, when the knocked at the Novak’s door and Anna let them in, the scent of pancakes and syrup was heavy in the air. 

“Hi Dean, hi Sammy.” Gabriel was in the kitchen wearing a banana yellow apron over his pajamas.

“I’ll finish up in here,” Anna told him. “You go get dressed for school.”

Gabriel handed over his spatula and headed toward his room, ruffling Sam’s hair up on his way past. Dean sighed, not bothering to fix it again. Then Lucifer and Michael both came out of their rooms at the same time and made for the kitchen. Michael opened the fridge and reached for the orange juice. Lucifer swept in and snatched it first, popping the lid open and drinking down what remained. He set the empty carton back down in the fridge, so Michael picked it up and chucked it at the back of his head. “You don’t even like orange juice, you ass,” Michael complained.

“They’ve started early.”

Dean turned around to find Castiel, dressed in an oversized sweater and wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, looks like they have. Jesus, did you even sleep last night?”

Castiel yawned, as if cementing Dean’s observation. “I was up late.”

Gabriel sauntered back into the room fully dressed and pointed at the table.“Alright ladies, take a seat and prepare to have your minds blown by my fan-fucking-tastic pancakes.”

“Language, Gabriel,” Michael mumbled, shoving Lucifer aside so he could get to the coffee pot.

Gabriel’s pancakes were, as promised, fan-fucking-tastic. Dean and Sam had come to terms with the fact that anything homemade was bound to be a thousand times better than their old diet of leftover pizza and stale lucky charms, but Gabriel’s food tended to exceptionally delicious. After they ate, Anna collected the dishes and put them in the sink, Michael went to find the keys to his truck, and Gabriel tied Sam’s shoelaces because Dean had forgotten. 

As he did every morning, Michael ushered them all out the door on time and waited until they were all on the bus before hopping in his truck to leave for work. As they left, Dean noticed the calendar by the door. It was Wednesday, January twenty-fourth. His birthday.

He briefly considered telling the others, but decided against it. If he told them this year then he’d have to suffer the disappointment next year when they all forgot. He’d gone through that enough with his dad and he didn’t want to repeat the process. Birthdays weren’t a big deal anyway. So what if he was eleven. It didn’t really matter until he was thirteen.

Sometimes the kids in Dean’s class would have birthdays. The teacher would announce it after roll call and the student’s parents would come in at lunch time to deliver a cake or cookies for the class. When lunch rolled around, Dean wondered what it would be like if his dad came in with a batman themed birthday cake for the whole class to share. He doodled a cake in his notebook next to his math questions, then scribbled it out and put his pencil down. Birthdays were stupid anyway.

By the time the stupid bell finally rang and signaled freedom, Dean was downright cranky. Sam, Gabe and Castiel seemed to be happy about something, but they refused to share with him. The walk back to Bobby’s was long, cold, and annoying. 

They were almost there when Sam came to a halt just inside the gates to Bobby’s yard. “Dean...”

“What?” Sam shuffled his feet guiltily and Dean scowled. “It’s cold, can we go inside?”

“I- uh… I think I dropped something back there.” Sam pointed vaguely in the direction of the road.

Dean groaned. “Really?”

“I had it just a minute ago. I don’t think it’s far away...”

“Fine. You and Gabe go inside,” Dean said to Cas. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

The ‘something’ that Sam dropped turned out to be a toy frog that Gabriel had given him about a week ago. It also turned out to be in his backpack the entire time. “I didn’t see it,” Sam said.

“I froze my ass off because you thought you dropped something and it was in your bag the whole time?” Dean groaned again and started back toward Bobby’s.

“Sorry,” Sam said again. He didn’t seem too upset.

When they finally got back to Bobby’s house, Dean stripped off his mittens and twisted the door handle, looking forward to a bit of warmth before he could bury himself in car parts and forget about his day. He yanked the door open and stepped inside, then stopped so abruptly that Sam walked right into him.

“Happy Birthday, Dean!”

Gabriel, Castiel, Michael, Lucifer, Anna, Bobby, and even his father were standing in Bobby’s kitchen. The confetti that Castiel had thrown into the air was fluttering down on all of them and the most delicious looking cake Dean had ever seen was sitting on the table with eleven candles sticking out of the top.

“I’m sorry I lied about Mr. Frog,” Sam said immediately. “I had to distract you so Gabe and Cas could tell them you were here!”

Dean turned around and grabbed his brother, hugging him so tight that Sam’s feet came off the floor. “This is awesome!”

And it was awesome. After they ate the burgers that Bobby had grilled to perfection and topped with bacon, Anna cut up the cake that Cas and Gabe had apparently stayed up all night making and dished it out on batman-themed paper plates. Dean ate two pieces because it was absolutely the best cake in the entire world. Then Dean was directed toward a pile of gifts on the sofa and Cas took pictures as he opened them all. A football from his dad, his very own set of wrenches from Bobby, and one shoe from Lucifer came first. The shoe confused him, but Gabriel finally broke down and pulled out his own gift, which turned out to be the other shoe. The brothers high-fived and Anna apologized on their behalf. Anna gave Dean another poster for his bedroom Castiel gave him a fluffy green scarf to match his eyes.

Later, when Dean was getting ready for bed after his surprisingly exciting birthday, Sam pulled a small package out from beneath his pillow. It was wrapped in newspaper and entirely too much tape, but he handed to Dean with pride. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Sam.” Their dad had never given them much in the way of an allowance, so Sam didn’t have much money of his own.

“Bobby helped,” he admitted awkwardly.

Dean tore at the newsprint and pried at the tape until it came loose, then pulled out a black cord necklace with a egyptian looking brass amulet. Dean turned it over in his hand, admiring the detail and the sharp horns. “Thanks, Sam,” He grinned and slipped it over his head. “I love it.”

Maybe birthdays were stupid with nobody but your little brother to remember that you were turning a whole year older, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Now that he had friends and a semi-functional family, Dean decided that birthdays were pretty cool.

Especially this one.

 

**February**

The best part about winter mornings was getting to the Novak’s house as early as possible. John had a strict policy about the use of the heater and that was, “If you’re cold, put another blanket on.” So when the sun came up and the Winchester boys were burrowed under several blankets and still shivering, the Novak house sounded like the perfect place to be. 

The second their alarm went off, they both reached for the clothing they had left on their nightstands and dressed under the covers. Dean finished first and reluctantly rolled out of bed, dragging Sammy when he made a fuss. “Put on your shoes real quick so we can go see Cas and Gabe,” he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

The Novak house was warm and welcoming, as expected. Cas greeted them with a plate of poptarts, then returned to the kitchen counter to finish his science homework even though it wasn’t due until Monday. Sam nibbled at his poptart and watched Cas work until Dean told him to scram.

Sam yawned and made his way to the couch, but Gabriel stepped on his untied shoelace and tripped him. His landing was by no means graceful. “There’s a lesson in this, you know,” he said, pointing at Sam’s shoes. “You stay up late reading again? You look like a zombie.”

Sam pulled himself off the floor and nodded. “Yeah. Did you know that some octopuses let their babies eat their arms ‘cos they don’t want to leave them alone to go find food?”

“That’s gross. You know, you can read better than a fifth grader and you know more about history than some high schoolers, but you still can’t tie your shoes. What’s up with you, anyway?”

Sam shrugged. “Dean always does it for me.”

“Well let’s give Dean-o a break, huh? Sit down, I’ll show you how.”

Sam watched as Gabriel pulled the laces into loops and wrapped them around each other. He showed him on both shoes, then pulled the laces out and let Sam try it. “Yeah, like that. No, that side first.” Before long, Sam had it mastered. “Great job, kiddo. Here, have some of this. Don’t tell Dean.” Gabriel handed over his mug of coffee and sat next to Sam on the couch.

Gabriel decided that six year olds on coffee were a wonderful thing.

“Dean, Dean, Valentines day is coming up!” It was nearly thirty minutes after Sam had drained Gabriel’s mug and Dean looked genuinely concerned.

“How much candy did Gabriel give you?”

Sam ran into Gabe’s bedroom and returned with a shoe box, then dropped it on the ground and ran back to get his backpack. He dumped out a few sheets of red construction paper and a tube of glitter glue. “Ms. Shelley said we had to decorate a shoebox and put a hole in it and on Valentines day we’re gonna put them all on our desks and everyones gonna give everyone valentines cards with candy!” He picked up the box’s lid and examined it. “Do they do that in your class Gabriel? I bet you get lots of candy. Dean can I borrow your knife?”

“Maybe I should help you with that.” Castiel stepped in to help Sam decorate his valentines “mailbox”. 

“Do you get candy too, Cas?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Only little kids do that, Sam. Don’t ask dumb questions.”

“What do big kids do?” Sam directed his question at Gabriel.

“Well, Sammich, when you’re in first grade, girls have cooties. Boys too, sometimes.”

“I know that,” Sam nodded.

“But when you get to be my age, cooties go away. Then boys and girls aren’t so gross. So instead of giving everyone a valentine, you pick the girl or boy that you like best and give them a valentines day card and some chocolate. Or stuffed bears, but chocolate is way cooler.”

“Do you get lots of cards and chocolate?”

Gabriel grinned widely. “I get the most.”

\--

By Valentines Day morning, Sam’s mailbox was ready to go. Gabriel had gotten a little enthusiastic with the glitter and, after a great deal of complaining, Dean had even pitched in and drawn a big car on the side. After tucking it safely into his backpack with all of his other valentines, he put on his backpack and followed Dean out the door.

“You should ask Cas to be your valentine,” Sam suggested as they made their way down the hall. 

“No way. I’m gonna ask Ellie Coughlin to be my Valentine. I think she likes me.”

“Cas is way cooler than Ellie Coughing.”

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean stuck his tongue out at his little brother and knocked on the Novak’s door. 

Lucifer answered. “Ooh look, trick-or-treaters!” 

“Wrong holiday, Lucinda,” Anna called from the kitchen. It smelled like cookies. 

Sam went straight for the kitchen table to set down his backpack, then pulled out a card and a Hershey’s chocolate bar. Right on time, Gabriel came out of his room sporting red shirt with a giant stop sign above the words ‘in the name of love’. It was one of his favorite thrift shop finds. “Sammich! Got your valentines box all ready for action?”

Sam nodded, then held up the card and bar of chocolate. He took a deep breath. “You said big kids pick the person they like best and give them cards and candy so here!”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, then stepped forward and took the card out of Sam’s waving hand. Though art wasn’t Sam’s strong point, Gabriel could make out what seemed to be a giant platypus on the front. His favorite animal. On the inside, next to a stick figure drawing of what could only be Sam and Gabe holding the platypus’ hands, it read, “WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE?”

Gabriel swooned theatrically, back of his hand to his forehead. “Of course, Sam; I’m honoured!”. Then he picked Sam up and hugged him tight, spinning him around in a circle. As soon as Sam’s feet touched the floor again, he was running back to his backpack and pulling out more cards. He passed them out to everyone in the room, obviously proud of his hard work.

Castiel’s read, “You’re my favorite person too but Dean picked you first. Happy Valentines Day!” and Dean’s read “You’re my favorite brother,” which Dean snorted at and rolled his eyes. Even Lucifer got one that read, “Happy Valentines Day even though you’re scary sometimes.”

After thanks were given and bowls of cereal were consumed, Michael saw them off to the bus stop and they headed to school. Gabriel let Sam hold his coffee while he ate the chocolate bar and when Sam handed it back, half of it was gone. He winked conspiratorially and Cas rolled his eyes. Dean didn’t seem to notice.

When Sam got to class, all the desks were arranged in a big circle that took up the whole classroom. He found his nametag, sat down, and stuck his box right at the top of his desk. Then he dug through his backpack and pulled out the dollar store cards that Bobby had helped him pick out and got ready to hand them out to his class. Valentines Day was awesome.

\--

Now that the school year was more than halfway over, Gabriel had once again cemented his position as class clown, made friends with several upperclassman through bribery and candy, and generally worked his way pretty far up the social ladder. Within the first three periods of the day he had collected no less than six candy bars, three chocolate hearts, two roses, and eight cards. In anticipation of the holiday, he’d filled his backpack with several bags of bite-sized candy bars to pass out to all his friends and admirers, as well as to snack on. He even gave one of his roses to his favorite teacher, who promptly handed it back and told him to sit down and keep his mouth shut. 

Through all of this, whenever he was asked, he proudly declared that he already had a Valentine. Several people asked him who the lucky girl was, but he insisted that it was a secret. People speculated and rumors spread and even though he had to turn down a very pretty girl, he found all of the fuss to be incredibly amusing and worth the loss.

\--

Sam, on the other hand, had told anyone who would stop and listen that he was the only first grader in the whole class that had a Valentine, and his name was Gabriel Novak. Cindy Flanders told everyone she had a valentine too, but when she revealed that it was Matthew Denby, Matt when running across the playground screaming about lies and cooties.

When school ended, the four met at the flag as usual and started their journey to Bobby’s. Gabe had eaten all the chocolates he’d received but one, so he gave the last chocolate and one of his roses to Sam. He stuck the other rose in Castiel’s backpack. Dean pulled out the scarf Cas had given him for his birthday and wrapped it around his neck three times, then shoved his hands in his pockets and grumbled about the cold.

“Dean’s just cranky because Ellie Sneezy turned him down,” Sam guessed. “Right?”

“Shut up, Sam.” She had. The chocolate heart he’d been planning on giving her was still tucked his pocket.

“I don’t imagine it’s any great loss, Dean,” Cas said. “I have a class with her brother and, from what I hear, she still picks her nose quite frequently.”

Dean scrunched up his face and then laughed, digging the chocolate out of his pocket and slapping into Cas’ hand. “Fine, you win Sam. Cas can be my Valentine.”

Castiel turned the candy over in his hands, then peeled open the wrapped and popped it in his mouth. “I graciously accept,” he said, candy in his cheek.

\--

It was late when John finally came around to pick up the boys. Michael had already picked up his brothers a few hours ago and Bobby had cooked dinner for Dean and Sam, who were now staring at their homework and struggling to keep awake. 

“Got caught up at work,” John explained, stamping some of the muddy snow off of his boots, “but I made some good sales today so I’m sure the boss will be happy.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up.

“Glad to hear it. Boys already ate, so just take them home and put them out of their misery. They both ought to be in sugar-comas from what I hear. All that Valentines candy.”

John spotted his sons in the living room, sluggishly collecting their things. “Have a good day?” He asked.

“Yes sir,” Dean answered, nodding and fighting back a yawn. “Lot of candy.” Sam came up behind him and nodded in agreement..

“I see you’ve got a rose there, kid.” John eyed the flower in Sam’s hand. “Meet a pretty girl?”

“Nu-uh. Gabriel gave it to me. He’s my valentine.”

Dean hadn’t thought anything of it all day. Sam was just a kid, so of course he would pick his best friend for the ‘person I like most’ award. And even though Gabe was in high school, of course he would humor Sam and accept his Valentine. That’s just the kind of person he was. But Dean could tell right away by the way John was scowling that he didn’t see it the same way.

“Boys can’t have boys for Valentines, Sam,” John said. “You have to pick a girl.”

Sam frowned. “That’s not fair though. I don’t like any girls. I like Gabe and Cas...” he was going to add that he didn’t pick Cas because that was Dean’s job, but the wide eyed, tight lipped expression that Dean gave him let him know that he needed to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t see why any of this was a big deal anyway.

“Gabe and Cas can be your friends, Sam, but boys can’t like boys. Gabriel should be old enough to know that. I oughta have a talk with that boy.”

“Gabe didn’t do anything wrong!” Sam protested. 

Bobby intervened. “Hell, John, just let him be a kid. He didn’t mean a damn thing by it.”

John turned on Bobby and his frown deepened. “‘Course he didn’t, he’s in second grade. But those Novak kids need to watch what they’re teaching him. Kids are impressionable and I don’t want my boy turning into some sissy.”

“I’m not a sissy!” Sam yelled at his dad. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and Dean’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him away.

“Take your brother outside and wait in the car,” John growled to Dean, cutting off whatever Bobby was about to say.

\--

Dean desperately wished that he’d paid more attention when Bobby was talking about hotwiring vehicles. He’d wrapped himself and Sammy up in the fluffy green scarf, but their teeth were still chattering when John finally came out and started the car. 

They rode home in silence and, despite all of the good things that had happened that day, when it came time to go to bed Sam put on his pajamas, crawled into Dean’s bed, and cried himself to sleep.

 

**March**

Progress on the Impala was slow. They would work on it for a few days at a steady pace, then Bobby would cuss and pull a mangled piece of this or that out and declare it unusable. Some things he could replace with parts that were lying around his scrap yard, but many he had to order. They would take a break for a few days or use the time to straighten up the shop, then the part would arrive and work would resume. 

One cold Tuesday in March, while Sam and Gabriel were inside working on the insane task of alphabetizing Bobby’s entire library, Castiel was sitting in the garage doing homework when Bobby started cussing again. 

“Wrong part?” Dean guessed, examining the metal contraption Bobby had just pulled from its box. 

“Nah, it’ll work. Just can’t figure out why they sent a part for an American car all the way from Japan.”

Dean pulled a piece of paper from the box and examined it, then turned it right-side-up and looked it over again. “The instructions are in Japanese too. Hey Cas, you know Japanese yet?” Dean liked to joke about Castiel’s love for languages.

“I only know English and Spanish, Dean.”

Bobby just rolled his eyes and held out a grease-stained hand. “Give it here, I can read it.” Dean raised an eyebrow but allowed Bobby to take the paper. He and Cas watched as Bobby’s eyes slid down the sheet and he nodded. “Yeah, it’ll work just fine.”

Castiel’s eyes grew wide. “Bobby, you can read Japanese?”

_“Hai, watashi wa sore o amarini mo yomu koto ga dekimasu.”_

“What’s that mean?” Dean asked.

“It means quit gawking at me and get to work, boy.” Bobby tossed a wrench to Dean and started to read off the instructions in English.

When the part was correctly in place, work on the Impala was done for the night, and Bobby was making hot chocolate to warm everyone up with, Castiel retrieved the dirty instruction sheet from the garage and studied the foreign characters with fascination. “They’re so neat and graceful,” he said to himself, tracing one of the symbols with a finger.

“You gonna learn Japanese now too? Don’t you think one language at a time is enough?”

“I’m too far ahead of my Spanish class to learn anything new from it until next year. Would you teach me Japanese?”

Bobby set four mugs of hot cocoa on the table and dropped a bag of miniature marshmallows in front of Gabriel. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

From then on it became a near daily routine. Dean, Sam, Gabriel and Castiel would go to Bobby’s after school. They would all eat a snack and talk about their day, then Gabe and Sam would go off to the library to sort through book after book while Dean and Castiel followed Bobby out to the garage. Cas would sit down on the overturned bucket he’d claimed as his seat, Dean would roll up his sleeves and wait for Bobby’s command, and Bobby would begin his lessons of the day. 

“ _Hai_ is yes. _Iie_ is no. You need a box wrench for that, Dean. That opened ended deal ain’t gonna cut it. _Ohayou Gozaimasu_ is good morning. It’s got the u at the end, but you don’t so much pronounce that as just kinda hint at it.” And eventually, “ _De wanai, sono tsuru o matsu._ I said wait Dean!”

“Yeah, in freakin Japanese!”

\--

Gabriel’s idea of a fun time did not include alphabetizing a packrat’s book collection. Mostly he kept Sam on track because, left to his own devices, the boy would have his nose buried in a book the whole time and none of them would get shelved. As they were now, they were piled up on the bookshelves every which way. Some were sideways, stacked haphazardly with bookmarks and notes shoved between. Some were balanced precariously on things such as lamps or the fireplace mantle piece. There were crates around the room as well, each filled with one subject or another. It was a nightmare.

After much deliberation, it had been decided in the first week that the books would be organized by subject and then alphabetized within their subjects. This meant going through every single book to pull out all of the ones pertaining to one subject, alphabetizing, and repeating. Sam never tired, scurrying back and forth, dusting off old books and staring at them in awe before either putting them in their subject-pile or asking Gabriel what they were.

They were about three weeks into the hellish process, having just completed the automotive related books last Tuesday, when Sam dug out a dusty old tome that he could barely lift on his own. 

“‘s heavy, Gabe, _help_ ,” he groaned, lugging it over to the table.

Gabriel rescued the book from Sam just in time, saving a four foot stack of Latin language books that the younger boy had nearly knocked over. He dropped the thing on the table, coughing at the cloud of dust that came free. The cover was badly damaged and looked a bit like it had caught on fire at one point. The first hundred or so pages were warped as well, as if they’d gotten soaked. Gabriel peeled the title pages apart, hoping to glean something from the smudged ink.

“Go further back,” Sam suggested, reaching out to open the book to its middle.

“Leek Soup,” Gabriel read aloud. His eyes scanned the page and he raised an eyebrow. He flipped a few pages. “Lentil soup. Yuck.”

“It’s a cookbook?”

“Looks like it.” He flipped to the back of the book and browsed a few pages before stopping on one. “Soft peaks, stiff peaks… zest…. these are all baking terms.” 

“You should read it.”

“Guess it would keep me busy while you waste away in this dustland.”

\--

Three days later, on a particularly snowy Saturday, the Winchester-Novak collection found themselves with a whole weekend and nothing to do with it. Michael was working overtime at the clinic, Lucifer was no help at all, and Anna was hanging out with her friends and didn’t want babysitting duty. Dean had suggested they go to Bobby’s, hoping to work on the Impala some more, but when they got there, Bobby greeted them in his pajamas with a box of tissues tucked under one arm and a hot mug of tea in hand.

“One of you snot nosed brats probably brought some bug over from that school of yours,” he complained. He let them in anyway, not mean enough to send them walking back home and not well enough to drive them. “Just stay outta trouble. I’ll be upstairs.”

He returned to bed and, with nothing better to do, Dean, Cas, and Gabe followed Sam into the library. Gabriel took his place on the couch and picked up the abused cookbook that hadn’t budged an inch since he set it down two days ago. He flipped to the soups and started to read. 

“Can we help, Sam?” Castiel asked, watching as Sam picked right up where he’d left off, stacking a pocket sized bible atop a large pile of the same. 

Sam looked thoughtful, glancing back and forth between Cas and Dean, then to Gabe. “I can’t reach the tall ones,” he said finally, pointing up to the top shelves. “Gabriel can’t either.”

If Gabriel had been paying any attention, he might have griped at Dean for snickering about his height, but he was reading a recipe intently and scribbling notes on a piece of scrap paper. 

“What goes on those shelves?” Castiel asked, reaching up to see how high it was. He could get books onto the second highest shelf, but even he couldn’t reach the very top one. 

“Maybe I can reach it,” Dean offered, stepping around a crate of books to try.

“Cas is taller than you, Dean,” Sam pointed out. 

“Not for long,” Dean grumbled. “I’ll outgrow him. I’ll outgrow all of you sprouts.” Dean had been particularly touchy about his height ever since one of the girls he liked teased him for being shorter than she was. 

“What about both of you?” Castiel suggested, eyeing the Winchesters. “Dean, if you put Sam on your shoulders, he could reach the top shelf. I can pass you books.”

A few minutes later, with the help of a stack of textbooks and a boost from Castiel, Sam found himself atop Dean’s shoulders and very much able to see the top shelf. “Yuck, dusty! I don’t think Bobby can reach it either.” Castiel handed Sam a dust rag and Dean groaned.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Gabriel finally spoke, rising from the couch with the book and his notes, “so if any of you break something and need an ambulance, just hollar.”

“What are you making?” Dean inquired, taking a step or two to follow him. Sam wobbled and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s hair to steady himself, which resulted in a whole lot of yelling and cussing. Gabriel just laughed.

Their system worked pretty well for a while. They were able to get all the books on the top two shelves before Dean got too tired to hold Sam up anymore, and then Cas helped Sam hunt down the rest of the history related books while Dean sprawled across the couch with a classic car magazine he’d discovered.

Dean found it comforting to listen to Sam and Cas talking about boring history stuff while Gabriel hummed from the kitchen. He wondered if they could do this forever, even when they were grown up. He imagined a house just like the church loft only bigger, with Gabriel in the kitchen making apple pie and singing off-key Led Zeppelin while Cas and Sammy talked about… what were they talking about? The history of airships? Part of him pictured Cas as a teacher, dressed all nice with a blue tie and a briefcase. The thought made him laugh out loud.

“What’s funny, Dean?” Sam asked, looking up from the book he was holding.

Dean shrugged. “Nothin.” He returned to his magazine, but he could feel Castiel’s watchful eyes staring a hole into the side of his head. He put the magazine down again. “Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re grownups?”

“I don’t see why not,” Castiel answered.

Sam scrunched up his nose, as if Castiel’s answer wasn’t good enough. “Course we will, we promised!” Sam hadn’t forgotten the day at the church loft when they’d promised to stick together no matter what.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dean smiled, remembering the same thing. “I bet you’ll be a teacher, Cas.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just because. A super boring history teacher with a blue tie.”

Sam was already buried in another book, but Castiel watched Dean with a puzzled expression before finally settling for a smile. “And a tan coat. I’d like that.”

\--

Gabriel, it turned out, had gotten it in his mind to make Bobby homemade chicken noodle soup. When he entered the living room to announce that dinner was ready, he found Cas and Sam tucked up in an old green lounge chair reading a book about some war hero and Dean flipping through an automotive parts catalogue that looked severely outdated. 

“Dinner is served, ladies,” he announced. “Dean, go get Bobby.”

Bobby’s eyes watered a bit when he came downstairs. “Where in the hell did you get the stuff to bake homemade bread, boy?” He asked in amazement, clapping Gabriel on the back. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

Gabriel served them all bowls of soup, fresh baked bread and hot tea for Bobby and Cas. He dug up some sodas from the back of the fridge for himself and Dean, and poured a cup of apple juice for Sam. “Bone appetite,” he said, sitting at his place.

“ _Bon appetit,_ ” Castiel corrected, appalled at Gabriel's pronunciation, but all was forgiven with the first spoonful of soup. 

“This is freaking delicious,” Dean said with a mouthful of noodles and chicken. Sam tried to kick him under the table for his manners but couldn’t quite reach. 

“Glad you like it, old man. Found an ancient old recipe book in that dust collection you've got going on and figured I’d give something a shot.” He pointed to the book where it was propped open next to the cutting board. “What the hell did you do to that thing anyway?”

Bobby chuckled and dunked some of his bread in his soup. “Tried to make a casserole. Damn near set the kitchen on fire. Set the book on fire for sure. Had to dump a bowl of water on it.”

“Well that explains it,” Gabriel scoffed

Bobby nodded grimly.“You see why I don’t cook. So what else did you hooligans get up to today?”

Sam was the first to pipe up. “Dean and Cas helped me put all the high books up and we got through all the history ones today. Dean found a magazine with old cars and one with old cars and naked ladies and Cas took it away from him.”

Bobby turned a bit red, then burst out laughing. “Don’t tell your father,” he wheezed, succumbing to a coughing fit. Gabriel passed him a bottle of honey and pointed at his tea.

“I won’t,” Dean mumbled.

“And I learned all about Alan Turing. There was a book about him and Cas helped me read some of it.”

Gabriel perked up, recognizing the name from one of his recent history chapters. “The guy that defeated the enigma machine, right?”

“The what?” Dean asked.

Castiel was happy to explain it again. “The Enigma machine. In World War Two, the Germans used a machine to turn all their messages into codes. Every single day they switched to a new code so nobody could guess it. Alan Turing made a machine that could figure out the code and it helped them win the war.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel piped up, “Then they killed him because he was gay.”

“Technically he took his own life,” Castiel said softly, “but yes.”

Sam chewed on his bread for a minute and watched the conversation before him, then finally spoke up. “What’s that mean anyway?” He asked. “Dad says gay people go to hell and stuff, but nobody ever says what it means.”

Sometimes it was easy for Cas and Gabe and Dean to forget that Sam was still only six. Everyone took a turn looking around awkwardly before Gabriel finally spoke up. “It’s when a boy likes a boy or a girl likes a girl.”

“Is that why Dad got mad about Valentines day?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean frowned. “Yeah.”

Gabriel hadn’t heard anything about what happened on Valentines day after he left. He wanted to ask now, but Bobby, Sam, and Dean all looked uncomfortable. So instead, he rose and grabbed his bowl. “Seconds, anyone?” Four bowls were held out to him almost immediately. “All right then.”

\--

Later, when Dean, Cas, and Sam were having a soap and bubble fight under the guise of doing dishes, Gabriel sought out Bobby in the library.

“Got a lot of work done,” Bobby acknowledged, picking up the book on Alan Turing that Cas had left in the chair. 

“Yeah, they were pretty busy in here until Sam got distracted by reading. It happens a lot.”

Bobby lowered himself into the green chair and dug a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose. When he was done, Gabriel asked, “What happened on Valentines day?”

Bobby sighed and crumpled the overused tissue into a ball. “John threw a little hissy fit about Sam picking you as his Valentine. Called him a sissy and made him feel like shit. Dean says the poor kid cried all night.”

Gabriel frowned. “It’s not like that, though. Sam’s in first grade. He likes checkers and books and marbles, not boys and girls. He only picked me because I’m his best friend.”

“Well of course I know that, but have you met John Winchester?” Bobby snorted. “The man’s a case, that’s for sure.”

“That’s bullshit,” Gabriel grumbled. “Making Sam cry over something like that. For fuck’s sake I’m in high school. Just because I like guys doesn’t-” he coughed suddenly and tried to backtrack. “Ah…”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. 

“I wouldn’t… I mean... Fuck, this is going well. I like girls too, for the record.”

“I’m not one to judge, kid. And neither is your family, far as I can tell. You lucked out with them.”

“Tell me about it.” Gabriel relaxed a bit, but his stomach felt a bit like it was lodged in his throat.

“But John- he’s a different story. If you wanna go telling everyone your preferences and all that’s fine and dandy, but I’d do your damndest to keep it from him.”

“I haven’t told anyone…”

“Well I ain’t gonna open my big mouth if you don’t open yours. Just remember that, all right? I like you and that weirdo brother of yours and I want you two to hang around. But if John gets it in his mind that you’re tryna turn them queer - and trust me, that’s the first thing he’ll think- they’ll be up and out of the state before spring hits.”

“I hate him.” Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek. He watched Sam and Dean scrub soap suds out of their hair with towels in the other room and tried to imagine going to back to life without them.

“He’s not a bad man,” Bobby said, blowing his nose and sighing again, “He’s just got a lot of improvin’ to do.”

 

**April**

April first was Gabriel’s birthday, and nobody took greater pleasure in that irony than he. Every year Michael wished that their mother would have waited just a few more hours and popped him out on April second, but the universe liked to play cruel tricks and Gabriel’s birthday was one of them.

“April fool’s day, Sam,” he explained when the Winchesters made their appearance at his door that morning. “They made a national holiday to celebrate the day of my birth.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re a big liar, Gabriel Novak. Do you have any breakfast?” 

Castiel set out bowls, milk, and cereal, and Gabriel began to go over his agenda for the day. It was a Sunday, perfect for maximum pranks and debauchery without school getting in the way or calling to rat him out for skipping. “I put several fake spiders in Anna’s coat pockets, added red food coloring to the windshield wiper fluid in Michael’s car, and replaced all of Lucifer’s porn magazines with The Catholic Digest and several church flyers.”

Innocently, Sam inquired, “What’s porn?”

Dean nearly spit out his cereal and Gabriel laughed until he fell out of his chair. Castiel watched, red faced, wishing Sam would stop looking at him like he had the answer to that question. 

Michael saved him from having to explain. “What are you going on about so early?” 

“Gabriel is attempting to make an example of how much more mature he is now that he’s fifteen,” Castiel grumbled. Michael watched Gabriel pull himself off the floor and sit back down. Then, as if remembering something, he stuck his hands in his pockets and felt around.

From her bedroom, Anna let out a piercing scream. Gabriel’s eyes watered with the effort of containing his laughter. “They’re in Anna’s pockets this year. Your reaction wasn’t as good.” he said. 

As Anna screamed threats through her closed door, Michael pulled his wallet free of his back pocket and fished out a twenty. “Go to the movies. Go to another city. Go to Mars, for all I care. Just come back when it’s April second and don’t get arrested this year.”

“Aww, you wound me.” Gabriel pocketed the twenty. “And you know Jody loves my sweet, smiling face. C’mon boys, we’ve got havoc to wreak.” 

\--

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the winning movie, though Sam only voted for it because he didn’t know the others and Castiel was clearly unamused. Gabriel winked at his brother and showed him the pocket full of fart-bombs he’d snuck in. “It’ll be fun,” he promised.

The movie was only on for a few minutes before Castiel muttered, “His sword clearly just bent against the wall.” Gabriel told him to shut it and enjoy the movie. A few minutes later he pointed out, “You can see the cords from the studio equipment in the corner of the screen.” Somehow, after Castiel’s observations, the movie became a game of pointing out all the errors and inconsistencies, of which there were many. They whispered back and forth until the woman in front of them turned around and told them to shush.  
When there were only about two minutes left in the movie, Gabriel dug two fart bombs out of his pocket. He motioned for the door and the four of them stood and started filing out of the row. Gabriel tossed one of the bags under the seat in front of them and dropped one on the way out the door. 

They waited by the lobby doors, pretending to play on one of the arcade games until the people in the theater filtered out. Gabriel’s attempt to keep a straight face was short-lived when the woman who shushed them came out holding her nose and looking a bit ill. 

“You’re supposed to get more mature with age,” Castiel commented later as they walked to the nearby ice cream parlor. 

“Whoever told you that is a liar,” Gabriel countered. “As a freshman in highschool, I am entitled to be as immature as I can. It’s like a secret rule.”

Somehow, despite all of his various pranks and whole hearted attempts, Gabriel didn’t find himself in handcuffs by the end of the day. He’d nearly tried to purchase a can of pink spray paint with the intention of painting a pig on the side of the police station, but they’d spent the last of their pocket change on fake cigarettes and other candies. 

They made it back to the Novak apartment just a few minutes before dinnertime, and Michael ruffled Gabriel’s hair and clapped him on the back. “I knew you could make it through a whole birthday without getting arrested.”

Lucifer, who was fishing out bits of pineapple from the sweet and sour chicken Anna was making, commented, “She’ll probably be knocking on the door any minute now.” Anna slapped Lucifer’s hand away as he went for another chunk of pineapple

Michael shrugged. “Well I certainly hope not. Then I’d have to take his birthday present back to the store.”

Gabriel perked right up. “Present?”

“Will I be hearing from Jody tonight?”

“Not as far as I know,” Gabriel shrugged.

Castiel clarified, “I don’t think any of our activities today were entirely illegal.”

“What’d you get for a present, Gabe?” Sam asked, tugging at Gabriel’s shirt. It was a miracle he was still awake, after all they’d done over the course of the day.

“It’s in your bedroom,” Michael finally relented. “And Castiel, though it’s early by several months yet, your birthday present is in your room as well. I couldn’t just get one.”

Gabriel took off to his bedroom, vaguely aware that the others were following. He threw open his door and there, in the middle of his room, was a brand new, lemon-yellow bicycle. “Holy shit!” 

Castiel entered the room a moment later to announce that he too had a bike, though his was a dark blue color that was far less harsh on the eyes. 

“You should thank your brother,” Anna said from where she was leaning against the doorway. “He’s been saving up for those for a very long time and used all of his Christmas bonus. Lucifer and I helped too, but it was mostly Michael.”

Gabriel did thank Michael, and even went as far as warning him about the silly-putty he’d stuffed in the toes of Michael’s slippers. Lucifer got a thank you as well, but Gabriel never relented when it came to pranks on him. 

“There’s one more thing,” Michael said after all the thanks were given. He held out two identical packages, one to each Winchester.

“It’s not our birthdays, Michael. You didn’t have to get us anything.” Dean still took the package when Michael insisted. 

“They go with the bikes. They’re pegs that you can stick on the back wheel. You can stand on them while Gabriel or Castiel pedals, so you can all get around with just two bikes.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sam exclaimed, holding the bike pegs like they were something precious. 

“You’re welcome, Sam. Why don’t you guys go figure out how to put those on while we finish cooking?”

He didn’t have to say it twice. “I want to do it!” Dean called, running toward Gabriel’s bedroom.

While Dean sat on the floor and screwed the pegs onto one of the bikes, Gabriel studied all the gears and the handle-bar brakes in awe. Castiel started planning their first bike ride to the church loft, and Sam tried valiantly not to fall asleep on Gabe’s pillow. As far as birthday gifts went, this one was awesome.

\--

 

Long ago in a crowded grocery store, perched on Michael’s hip because he was too scared of getting lost to walk, Castiel heard someone speak in another language. It had been utterly mesmerizing, watching the woman’s lips moving without understanding a single word that came out. He wanted to understand, just the way he gobbled up the meanings of any new English word he came across. 

After lots of pestering, Michael sat down and explained to him that there were different languages all over the world. He gave a few examples, spouting commonly known words such as “ _sushi_ ” and “ _bonjour_ ” in an attempt to appease his baby brother’s growing curiosity. Castiel was fascinated, and hungry to know more.

The next time they went to the grocery store he wanted so badly to ask the cashier, who had been speaking French, he’d been told, to teach him something of the language. He tried as hard as he could to open his mouth and ask the round faced, motherly woman, but his words never worked with strangers and he couldn’t get it out. When she noticed his distress and questioned it, he ran away to hide behind loud-mouth Gabriel.

He cried when they got home, not understanding why he couldn’t get his words out when all he wanted to do was ask questions and learn. Anna, who was taking French at the time, pulled him up on her lap and shushed him. She opened her school book to a page entirely in French and spent the day reading it and explaining it, despite not knowing enough to truly teach it. 

Castiel’s love for languages and desire for knowledge never stopped growing, but his inability to speak to anyone but his siblings lasted for years. It caused him grief in school, where students teased him relentlessly and teachers called Michael constantly asking what to do about Castiel’s lack of participation. As elementary school turned into middle school, Castiel got better at one word answers and the everyday speech necessary to get through the day. Teachers stop being concerned and just wrote him off as quiet. At home, he earned the name Shushtiel, companion to Gabby, his brother who never stopped talking.

One thing Castiel had never had to face, though, was giving a speech. Until now.

It was Sunday afternoon and his speech was ready, proofread, and memorized flawlessly, but he was still pacing back and forth across his room and muttering to himself in Spanish. Dean watched from the bed, first mildly interested and then, after a while, concerned.

“Cas, why are you freaking out so much?” Dean finally asked. He set the paper he had been doodling on aside and sat up.

_“Tengo que dar-_ uh, sorry, I have to give a speech in my Spanish class on Monday.”

“So? You’re really good at Spanish. Is it a long speech?”

Castiel stopped pacing and sat on the bed. “No…”

“Do you have to memorize it?”

“I’ve got it memorized.” He stood and took a breath, then recited the entirety of it. _“Mi nombre es Castiel. Tengo tres hermanos y una hermana. Mis mejores amigos son Dean y Sam. Mi animal favorito es un gato, pero me gusta las aves también. No sé lo que quiero ser cuando sea grande pero Dean piensa que sere un profesor de historia con una corbata azul.”_

Dean blinked a few times. “What?”

“My name is Castiel. I have three brothers and one sister. My best friends are Dean and Sam. My favorite animal is a cat, but I like birds too. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up but Dean thinks I will be a history teacher with a blue tie.”

“Oh. Well if you have it all memorized, why are you freaking out?”

Castiel flopped back onto the bed, stretching out next to Dean. “I have to say it in front of my whole class.”

“Oh.” Dean had never had to give a speech in front of a class. He figured he could pull it off okay by making everyone laugh, but to force someone like Castiel to do it seemed cruel. “Could you skip on Monday and have Michael call in sick?”

“I thought about that, but my teacher will just make me do it on Tuesday.”

Dean frowned. “Well, what’s scary about it?”

Cas looked at him like he’d just asked what two plus two equals. “Speaking. People. Not something I do particularly well with.”

“Well yeah,” Dean waved his hand dismissively, “but why? What is it you’re actually afraid of?”

Castiel paused to consider Dean’s question. He sat down on the bed and thought it over. “Sometimes when I try to say things, they don’t come out right. I’ll likely mess up.”

“You don’t mess up much when you talk to us,” Dean pointed out. On occasion he would notice Cas struggling for a word or replacing similar sounding terms in a sentence, but often he corrected himself so quickly that it didn’t make any difference. He messed up more talking to Bobby, but Bobby was patient with him and didn’t much care for proper English anyway.

“You don’t laugh at me when I mess up. You don’t judge me or tease me.”

Dean thought about it for a few minutes longer, absentmindedly adding a bit more detail to his sketch of Batman. “If I was in your class, could you give your speech to me and ignore everyone else?”

“I’d imagine so. Sometimes I wish the four of us were all in the same grade.” 

Castiel sighed and sat back against a pillow, watching Dean draw until Anna came and got them for lunch. His speech ran around and around in his head, making his peanut butter sandwich taste bland and sit uneasily in his stomach.

\--

“Novak,” Mrs. Rivera called at twelve twenty four in the afternoon, signalling for Castiel to approach the front of the classroom and stutter his way through a speech that was slipping from his memory like water. He waited until the last student was all the way back to their seat before finally rising and slinking to the front. “When you’re ready,” she instructed.

Castiel thought that was awfully funny and wondered how she’d react if he went and sat back down. He didn’t imagine he’d ever actually be ready. He took a deep breath and willed the first words to come out but they stuck in his throat, just the way he could see a piece of gum stuck under Tracy’s desk. She was staring at him, waiting for him to get along with it. Derek was staring too, and behind him was Matthew, three of twenty four students all waiting for him to open his mouth and speak. 

He counted again and got twenty five.

Green eyes stared at him from a seat tucked in the very back corner, a wide grin encouraging him with no intent of ridicule. He took a deep breath, locked onto them, and spoke. The words tumbled out, all in the correct order with just the right amount of roll in the r’s and pause between sentences. They didn’t get tangled or jumbled or caught in his throat. Dean kept smiling at him from the back row and he kept speaking until his speech was done and his teacher called boredly for the next student. 

She marked an A next to his name and not a single student found anything worth teasing him for in the whole speech. Dean managed to slip out the door before the next student started, but Castiel took comfort in his silent encouragement for the rest of the day.

 

**May**

“Guess what today is,” Sam said, hanging off the back of the Novak’s couch and kicking his feet in the air. They were sitting in the living room, waiting for Anna to finish making eggs and toast.

“Wednesday,” Gabriel answered with a sly grin.

“The second of May,” Castiel added, pretending to be oblivious.

Sam stopped kicking his feet and looked over at Dean for the last bit of information.

“Sammy’s birthday,” Dean clarified at last. “What, did you think we’d forget?” He grinned and stood up to push his brother off the couch. “I got you a barbie doll.”

Sam made a face, but he knew Dean was kidding. “I don’t want a barbie doll.” 

Dean went and fished his gift for Sam out of his backpack. Bobby had helped him pick it out and wrap it last night. “Happy Birthday, Sammy.” Dean dropped the rectangular package in Sam’s lap and watched as Sam ripped apart the paper to reveal a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Castiel looked nearly as excited as Sam was. “It’s got a lot of big words so you might need Cas to help, but I know you always liked when I brought home scary movies from the library, so I thought you might like this.”

“This is awesome!” Sam jumped up off the couch and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Thanks, Dean!”

Sam spent the rest of the morning, the entire bus ride to school, and all of recess reading his new book. During recess he asked Ms. Shelley what a few of the words meant and she helped, despite looking terribly concerned at Sam’s choice of reading material. He even tried reading on the walk to Bobby’s, but holding the big book up and walking in a straight line proved to be a bit of a struggle.

“So, Sammy, what kind of cake do you want?” Gabriel asked when they finally made it to Bobby’s. He sat down on the couch and pulled open his cookbook to the desserts page. Sam thought about it for a long time. They looked in the fridge and made a list of all the cake-related stuff they could use and scanned through the recipes.

Finally, Sam jabbed his finger at one of the pages. “Strawberry short cake!”

Gabriel looked mildly offended. “No chocolate?”

“I like strawberries,” Sam assured him. Gabriel rolled his eyes, then ruffled Sam’s hair and headed to the kitchen. 

“All right, go get Castiel and you hang out with Dean and Bobby for a while.”

Sam ran out the door. A few minutes later, Castiel dutifully appeared. “You called?”

“We’re baking a cake for Sam,” Gabriel explained. “One day when I open a pastry shop, I will need your assistance. Consider this your training.”

Castiel didn’t look amused. “Hopefully I will have a more fruitful job than working as your sous chef.” He retrieved the strawberries from the fridge. “ _Ichigo._ ”

“That Japanese?” Gabriel guessed.

“Yes. Or, in Japanese, _Hai_. Bobby has been teaching me a lot.” He went to the sink to watch the strawberries.

“You know, for someone who barely talked a year ago, you sure are determined to learn how to communicate with everyone on the planet.”

“There are a lot more than four languages, Gabby.” Castiel tossed a rinsed strawberry into the strainer and selected another.

“You’ve been doing a lot better since Dean and Sam came around. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy as can be about it, but I still can’t figure out why you damn near flung yourself off the boardwalk to help some bratty kid.” Gabriel started collecting ingredients to make the icing with, stopping to watch Castiel for a minute.

After a long pause, Cas spoke. “I had a dream the night before.” He hesitated, wondering if his brother would tease him for it.

“Go on?” Gabriel prompted.

“I was an Angel of the Lord, leader of my own Garrison and tasked by God himself to save a man.” He remembered his dream vividly, despite it being so long ago. “I had to pull the righteous man from hell. I don’t know what he’d done to get there, but it wasn’t where he belonged.” He stopped to transfer the strawberries to a cutting board. “I went in with many angels and we fought long and hard, but in the end I was the only one to emerge. I grabbed him by the shoulder, pulled him free of his bonds, and flew him back to earth.”

“Damn, Cas, you should write books with an imagination like that.”

Cas looked over at his brother, who motioned to continue. “That wasn’t where it ended, though. The man pulled himself free of his grave and walked for miles to find food and water. I watched him for a while. It was an amazing feeling to see him alive because of my actions. After a while I realized he was confused, though, so I reached out and tried to speak to him-” Cas stopped again and sliced a particularly large strawberry in half. “I couldn’t do it. I’d just pulled a man straight out of hell, put his body back together, and breathed life into him, but I couldn’t manage to get out a single word.”

“Shushtiel, Angel of the Lord,” Gabriel smiled.

Castiel ignored his brother. “When we went to the park the next day, I remember seeing Dean playing football with Sam and Bobby. I didn’t think much of it, but when I saw Dean trying to reach Sam’s shoe and knew he was going to fall, I… I don’t know. I felt like I had to save him.”

“And I’m assuming that’s why you introduced yourself.”

“Yes. I was determined to speak to him. I suppose when I did and he didn’t ridicule me for my name or the things I said following that, I grew more confident.”

“Good. You’ve got a lot of brain in there, Cas. It’s a shame to keep it all shut up because you won’t talk to people.”

Castiel smiled at his brother’s comment and continued to slice strawberries in half. Gabriel worked on his cake batter, humming a Journey song to fill the silence. 

When the cake was done and ready, Gabriel took off his apron and headed toward the door to go fetch the Winchesters. He paused before he got there, though, and turned back to Castiel.

“You should tell Dean about your dream sometime.”

Cas smiled. “Perhaps I will.”

 

\--

With the last day of school on the horizon, Dean found it even more difficult than usual to concentrate. One by one, he and his fellow fifth graders were taken aside and given a chance to pick their electives and classes. He picked gym, of course, hoping that it would be more of a chance to run off his extra energy than elementary school recess. Since language was mandatory, he took Spanish, knowing that Cas would be able to help him with all of his homework. Then he was left with one more slot that he just couldn’t decide on. He thought about it all day, barely focusing on his actual class work. He drew a dinosaur on his math sheet and gave it a confused expression. He listed his choices and scribbled them down in different fonts. Then he sat back, looked at his paper, and knew what class he wanted to take. Art.

John wouldn’t be thrilled, but John didn’t have to know it was an optional class. Dean loved drawing, and if that was one of the only things that let him sit still and concentrate, then at least he would have one good grade on his report card.

Castiel was in the same boat, trying to pick his eighth grade electives. He thought about taking the next level of Spanish, but after flipping through one of the classes’ textbooks, he decided it wasn’t worth his time. Though his teachers always praised him for finishing his work before the rest of his class, it was a very good way to attract the attention of other students. Bullies, specifically. So he decided to go for a challenge and, despite being in the beginning stages of learning Japanese, he selected entry level French as well. He was thrilled to see that Gym wasn’t a requirement, so he skipped that over in favor of a high school level math class. He wasn’t sure about his last elective either, so when Dean suggested he take art so they might get a class together, he happily added it to his selections.

Gabriel already knew he was going to take volleyball for one of his classes. It was a commonly known fact around campus that volleyball was the most lax class there was. You could spend the entire semester sitting against the wall and twiddling your thumbs and, so long as you came in your gym uniform, you’d pass just fine. For his second elective, he was all set on choosing Home Economics until a Junior cornered him one day and begged him to join the band. “We’ve gotta recruit more people, man,” the kid begged. “Our marching band is a joke.” 

Gabriel pretended to think about it for a long time. “Is band camp everything they say it is?” he finally asked.

“Everything and more.”

“I can play the trumpet.”

“You’re in.”

\--

The last day of school came abruptly. One minute it was all finals and panicked studying, the next it was cupcakes and movies and signing yearbooks. 

Despite all his efforts, Sam cried when he said goodbye to Ms. Shelley. She smoothed back his hair and wished him well, telling him that he would do just fine in second grade and she was proud of all his hard work. He even got a bumper sticker for his good grades, but he knew his dad would never put it on the Impala. He used it as a bookmark instead. The one girl he’d managed to make friends with over the course of the year stole his yearbook from him at recess and made him chase her for nearly the entire twenty minutes, but when he caught her and got his book back, she grinned and said she’d miss him. He said he’d miss her too, but he had Dean and Castiel and Gabriel to play with all summer. He’d be just fine.

Dean, however, managed to pick a fight on his last day. He’d been waiting for it all year, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing when the teacher marched him up to the office with a firm grip on his ear. There was some blood in his teeth and his eye was pretty bruised, but all he cared about was the fact that stupid Jeffrey looked worse than he did, and he couldn’t get suspended. 

Castiel nearly found himself in a trash can on the last day of school, though, which went to show that end of year hijinx weren’t always in their favor. He invoked Gabriel’s name before they actually tossed him in, so they ended up dumping him on his butt next to the garbage and abandoning their mission. Despite that one almost-mishap, Castiel’s last day was a good one. He received praise from nearly all of his teachers, and all of them signed his yearbook. He even had two students offer to sign his yearbook, but one just drew a penis.

Then there was Gabriel, who would settle for nothing less than insanity on his last day. He stole two paper mache projects from the art classes and stuffed them full of candy, then hung them from the hallway ceiling fans and let people take turns with a metal pipe he’d found by the dumpsters. When Dick Roman finally came storming down the hallway, there was candy everywhere and Gabriel was long gone. Three girls found toads in their lockers with notes that read, “kiss me!” and one boy found a bag of dog crap in his.That one said, “eat me!” And lastly, because there was no way on earth he would pass this up, he blocked up all the bathroom sinks and turned them on full blast to lure Dick Roman out of his office once more, then threw no less than six super-strength fart bombs under Dick’s desk and ran like hell. Someone even managed to snap a picture of their dear principle vomiting, which Gabriel requested a print of so he could hang it in his room.

Even the last day of school had to come to an end eventually, though, and before too long the Winchester-Novak collective was gathered in front of the school, ready to head to Bobby’s. They shared their tales and Cas examined Dean’s black and blue eye, and then they quickly forgot about school all together and began to plan for the summer.

 

It didn’t last long.

 

**June**

It was a Monday morning, fourteen days into summer vacation, when John woke the boys early and told them to get up for breakfast.

“Good news, boys,” he said as he poured syrup over his waffles. Dean thought to himself that if his dad took the time to make waffles, it was either very good news or very bad news. It turned out to be the latter, of course. “There’s a traveling gun show comin’ up. Starts in Tennessee and ends in Texas. Boss wants me to go along with it and represent the company.”

Sam chewed on the edge of his waffle, watching his dad with big eyes. “We’re gonna stay with Bobby, right?” Dean asked.

“Course not. He’s done enough for you boys, he doesn’t need to be stuck with you for a month.”

“A month!” Sam dropped his fork and hurried to grab it before it hit the floor. 

“It’ll be like the good old days. Won’t have the Impala, but Bobby’s got a decent car he said I can use. We’ll get to travel around again, see the sights.” Hesitantly he added, “and I’ll have a job the whole time so we won’t have to worry about money so much. Maybe we can even see about that Six Flags down in Texas.”

Sam stared at his syrupy plate, no longer interested in his half-eaten waffle. “Can we bring Cas and Gabe?”

John sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Sam, you get to see those boys plenty. You two have been bothering Michael and Anna since the day we moved here; don’t you think they might like a break?”

Something in Sam’s chest clenched and he was suddenly awash with guilt. “Oh,” he whispered. He hadn’t seen it like that.

Dean wanted to speak up and tell his dad that Michael and Anna and Lucifer weren’t bothered by them, but before he could find his voice, John spoke up again. “We’re leaving on Sunday, so make sure you get some things together.”

“Yes sir,” Dean said quietly. Sam didn’t say anything at all.

\--

They convened in the loft. “A month?” Gabriel asked. “Is he fucking crazy?”

“Guess so.” Dean was sitting on the floor picking threads out of the rug. Sam was especially reserved, sitting on the couch and staring at the cover of a book he’d yet to open. It was too far above is reading level anyway, and he felt strangely guilty about all the times he’d bothered Cas for help reading. He wondered if he was annoying, always asking what words meant and how they were pronounced. 

“Sam?” Castiel noticed Sam starting to tear up. Unsure of how to help, he tried to think of something comforting to say.“We’ll be here when you come back, Sam. It won’t be too long. I’ll let you borrow my dictionary and a few books so you won’t be so bored.”

Sam started crying in earnest at that and Castiel looked around helplessly. Gabriel came to the rescue. “You’re breaking loft rules there, sprout. No crying, no misery, no sad faces.” He sat on the couch and pulled Sam close, offering the corner of his Beatles tee for Sam to wipe his eyes on.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t wanna mess up your shirt,” he sniffled. “And I don’t wanna take Cas’ dictionary. And I don’t wanna bother you or Anna or Michael…” He hiccupped and tried to hide his running nose with the back of his hand.

“What on earth are you going on about?” Gabriel muttered, pulling off his shirt and attacking Sam’s face with it. “You’re not bothering anyone. A little snot isn’t gonna ruin my shirt and Cas has at least four dictionaries.”

Dean filled him in. “Dad kinda told us that the trip would be good because we wouldn’t be bothering Michael and Anna for once.”

“Bother them?” Gabriel scoffed.

Castiel sat down on the rug next to Dean and batted his hands away from the threads he was tugging on. “Michael, Anna, and Lucifer all enjoy your company. They are particularly happy that I have begun to speak to outsiders more regularly, and believe you are to thank for it.”

Gabriel nodded. “They also love that you keep me occupied. I haven’t had a chance to swap out Anna’s hair dye or glue Michael’s keys to his ceiling fan in months.”

“Why-”

“Don’t ask,” Castiel advised.

“I still find time to harass Lucifer,” Gabriel added. “Most recently I took about fifty of his vinyl records and put them all in the wrong sleeves. It’s not particularly creative, but oh, is it fun to watch.”

Sam found it in him to chuckle at that. “I’m gonna miss you,” he lamented.

“You’re going to miss me and Cas, but you’re going to miss the coffee more. Caffeine withdrawal’s a bitch.”

Dean’s head snapped up. “It was you?!”

Gabriel howled with laughter until Dean got up and started to thwack him with a pillow. Sam jumped to his defense and before long the tears were temporarily forgotten and the day went on. 

\--

Despite all of their efforts to keep it at bay, Sunday finally came for them. Anna and Michael insisted on making them a big breakfast, but John declined, saying they had to get on the road early. Castiel and Gabriel were not to be thwarted by “John’s Evil Scheme”, though, and they were awake and waiting outside the door when the Winchesters tumbled out at five thirty in the morning. 

“You boys should be in bed,” John said when he saw them. 

“We’ll catch up on our sleep. It’s not like we have anything else to do this summer,” Gabriel snarked. Castiel elbowed him in the ribs.

“I apologize for my brother. He’s not had coffee yet.”

“Not everyone’s a morning person,” John shrugged, “but you kids shouldn’t be drinking coffee. It’s not good for you. Stunts your growth.”

“Thanks dad,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, too quiet for John to hear. He glared daggers into the back of the man’s head. 

Dean and Sam excused themselves to say goodbye while John finished loading the car and locking up the apartment. 

Sam held up the Beatles t-shirt that he’d ended up taking home after their last day in the loft. “Dean washed it for you.” 

“You can hang onto it,” Gabe said. “Insurance that you’ll come back. No, wait.” He glanced around, making sure John was inside, then tugged his Queen t-shirt off and pulled the Beatles one on. “Take that one. If you’re truly my friend, you would never steal my only Queen shirt. Not to mention your dad would probably shit a kitten if he knew you listened to that gay stuff.”

“Funny enough,” Dean admitted, “I think even my dad has a soft spot for Queen.”

“Regardless, keep it. Bring it back safe.” He turned to Dean. “I brought you something too, by the way.” He pulled a package of Red Vines out of his back pocket and handed them over. “Your favorite. Plus Anna was going to bake you an apple pie before you left but we didn’t have any flour, so she said she’ll makes you two when you come back.” 

“Awesome,” Dean said with the biggest grin he could muster under the circumstances.

Castiel had something for each of them as well. “A dictionary, as promised, and three books. Let me know what you think of them.” Sam took them carefully, setting Gabriel’s folded shirt on the top of the stack and holding it close to his chest. 

For Dean, he extended his tan sweater. It was the one he’d been wearing at the park nearly a year ago. “As Gabriel said, for insurance that you’ll return. I’ll miss you, Dean.”

Their goodbyes were cut short by an authoritative bark from their father that it was time to go. Gabriel wrestled them all into an awkward group hug, ruffled Sam’s hair, then slung his arm around Cas and together they waved goodbye. Dean and Sam watched out of the backseat of their borrowed car until they couldn’t see the building any longer, then turned and faced the open road with resignation. 

A month. It seemed like forever at that moment, but a shirt, a sweater, and a small stack of books reminded them of what they had to look forward to when they returned. 

An hour into their trip, Sam picked up the first book in Castiel’s pile and cracked it open. Taped to the inside cover was a five dollar bill and a note. Dean leaned over and they read it together.

“Change it out for quarters and give us a call whenever you find a payphone.” The Novak’s house phone number was scribbled below with angel wings doodled on either side of the number- a parody of their names. Sam and Dean grinned at each other, then Dean kicked back in his seat and Sam dove into his new book. 

A month. Maybe it wouldn’t be so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that got super long. And just wait- there's more! XD Some notes I'd like to make though:
> 
> -I am having a hard time writing Sam as a 7 year old because I literally do not know a single child between the ages of four and fifteen. I don't know how seven-year-olds work or speak or how much brain power they have... ack. So if anyone owns a seven-year-old and wants to proof read for Sam parts, please let me know! This is hard xD (He's supposed to be smart, and it's supposed to be implied that Cas helps him read all his books, but past that idk)
> 
> -I am trying to write equal amounts for each character without giving you guys whiplash, but if you notice one character's POV not coming up as much, please let me know!
> 
> -Castiel's "inability" to speak when he was younger stemmed from anxiety that he would say the wrong thing. He had trouble grasping speech when he was younger. This isn't intended to be any actual mental illness, but just one of the quirks of a quirky kid. I know he is kind of "stiff" right now, but as he grows he will become more like the Cas of now :3 Right now he's like s4 Cas.
> 
> -I have been slaving over this chunk for a long time and it's all blurring together. Please don't be afraid to point out typos and mistakes!!! I love you for it!
> 
> -The Spanish portions were translated by a friend, but please let me know if they don't say what they're supposed to say o.o that would be embarrassing.
> 
> -Thank you so much to wannaliveindeansdimples who came up with the names Gabby and Shushtiel in her own (amazing!!!) fic and allowed me to use them. They're so perfect <3
> 
> -AND LASTLY, if you'd like a cute, fun, crazy and porny Destiel fic, please check out my other story, Better Than Pie. It is my FIRST COMPLETE WORK EVER in the history of EVER and I am crazy proud of it <3
> 
> -Kudo's fuel my writing powers!


	4. 1990 pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to up the rating, guys xD
> 
> I'd like to throw out a quick warning, which will serve as a blanket warning for the rest of the story. Being that this story is about four boys growing up and discovering themselves both together and separately, there is going to be sex and there is going to be some experimenting with drugs. I'll just make it clear now so nobody's wondering- DeanxCas and SamxGabe doesn't happen until much much much later. The "underage sex" that does occur is between Gabriel and various partners. Eventually, when they get older, the others will get their chance to experiment as well. As for the drugs, it's been mentioned in canon several times that Dean has experimented with drugs, and I'd be terribly surprised if Gabriel hadn't. So yeah. Sorry if anyone feels the need to bail, but I hope you'll stick around!

**June, continued.**

Sam and Dean found ways to entertain themselves. On the very first day of their trip, Dean noticed Sam wiggling a tooth back and forth with his tongue. He waited until their dad stopped off to get gas, then said, “You know what the best way to get a tooth out is, right?” By that night, he’d successfully procured a long, thin piece of string. He was just about done tying the end around the motel bathroom’s door handle when John walked in and stopped them. He certainly seemed mad at first, but the sight of Sam standing, dumbfounded, with a piece of string tied to his loose tooth made even John Winchester chuckle a bit.

They also had endless car trip games to fall back on, from a game of rag-top that didn’t end until their arms were black and blue, to going through the whole alphabet, listing an animal per letter. When Sam was busy reading, Dean sang along to the classic rock tapes that were always in circulation, quick to hand up the next on the list when one came to an end. He organized them in the shoebox by alphabetical order, then reorganized them by favorite. 

It wasn’t all fun and games, though. Their journey from Kansas, through Missouri and Kentucky, and to their destination in Tennessee, was fairly straightforward and boring. They didn’t stop much except once to sleep and a few times to get gas and food. Once they got to Tennessee, though, everything changed. They met up with almost fifty other people in a city near Nashville, then set up camp in a large park. Sam and Dean played by a lake while their father went to a meeting where the coordinator of the gun show explained everything to the participants. John was assigned a table that would be hauled from city to city by the event coordinators, and he was to provide fliers for their Lawrence gun shop and a display of guns that, at all other times, were kept under lock and key in the trunk of their borrowed car.

John explained to them, later, “It’ll be a pretty easy routine. We’ve got a list of cities,” he held up a scribbled list, “and each one will hold a show that lasts about three days. Between that, there’s a day of travel and a day off. Three days on, two days off. They don’t much want kids around the guns, but most of these motels have televisions, so I’m sure you two can figure out something.”

It was Sam, of course, that spoke up. “How come we couldn’t stay with Bobby if you’re just gonna leave us in the motel?”

“Bobby’s done enough for you two, and enough for me,” John growled. He reigned in his temper and sighed. “Look, it will be fun. Every four days we’ll have a whole day to do whatever you guys want. We can check out some local diners, grab some pie, maybe see some sights.” He looked at Sam. “If there’s a library near by, I’ll see about dropping you off in the mornings.”

And so it began. Three days of sitting in a motel room, one day sitting in a car, and one day of freedom. The first day of the gun show in Tennessee, Sam and Dean waited until John said his goodbyes and headed off, then they bolted for the door. A five minute walk away they found a mini-mart with a payphone, and they promptly traded in their five dollar bill for a pocketful of quarters and punched in the number Castiel had given them. They made quite a sight, both of them pressing their ears against the speaker of the phone.

It rang three times, then, “Hello? Novak residence.” Anna’s voice had never sounded so sweet.

After she made sure they were both doing all right and safe, she passed the phone off to Cas and Gabe, who were also pressed against the phone in a similar fashion. 

“Sam? Dean?” 

“What state are you in?”

“Is John treating you well?”

“Do they have different kinds of candy in Kentucky?”

It was hard to tell who was speaking with both of the Novaks bombarding them with questions. “We’re in Tennessee right now,” Dean answered. “And no, the candy is the same in every state.”

Gabriel sounded truly disappointed. They talked on the phone until the automated voice of a lady informed them that they needed to deposit more coins to continue. “We have to go,” Sam said quickly, “but we’ll call from the next phone.”

“Don’t have too much fun without us!” Gabriel demanded.

Dean replied, “Trust me, we won’t.”

\--

Without the Winchesters around, the Novak house was surprisingly quiet. Gabriel still harassed his brothers, pranked his sister, and woke up the whole house with extravagant and cavity-inducing breakfasts, but it wasn’t quite the same. 

After one week of boredom and only two calls from Sam and Dean, Cas and Gabe pulled out their new bikes and rode to Bobby’s house. Gabriel complained loudly of his boredom, so Bobby sent him off to the grocery store with a list of ingredients, twenty bucks, and a request for something good to eat. Castiel stayed behind and drew hiragana in the dirt with a stick. 

“That one curves a little more to the right,” Bobby said, sipping at a glass of lemonade and gesturing to the symbol “na”. 

Castiel corrected it and moved on to the next one. “Is the Impala finished?” 

“Not even close. To be honest, he didn’t leave me with much of a car to put back together. I’m surprised it’s come so far. I thought about trying to finish it by the time he gets back, but it doesn’t feel right working on it without my idjit apprentice around.”

“You miss them too?” Castiel stopped drawing and looked up at Bobby.

“‘Course I miss ‘em.” He was quiet for a few minutes. “Thanks for stopping by. Why don’t you come inside and help me clean the kitchen so that brother of yours can whip us up something tasty when he gets back?”

“Okay.” Castiel abandoned his stick and followed Bobby inside.

\--

“Hello? Novak Residence.”

“Cas?”

“Hello Dean. I thought it might be you.” 

“Yeah.” Dean paused. Castiel could hear the sound of cars going by in the background. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Is Sam with you?” Castiel detected a note of hesitance in Dean’s voice. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Sam’s asleep. I snuck out to call.”

“Is John out again?”

Dean’s sigh sounded tinny over the payphone. “Yeah.”

The first two towns had gone well enough. Every morning John left, Sam and Dean entertained themselves with television, motel arcades, libraries and nearby parks, until John came home in the evening for dinner and they all went to sleep. Then they hit the third town and John didn’t come home until late the first night. He smelled a bit like beer and forgot to bring back dinner, but Dean didn’t say anything. He just tucked Sam into bed and promised they’d go get something good to eat in the morning. The second night, John didn’t come back until four in the morning. When he collapsed, dead drunk on his bed, Dean took the opportunity to nab his wallet and take out a few dollars for next time so he and Sam could have dinner. Thus the pattern began.

“Please let us tell Bobby,” Castiel begged. “He will come get you, I’m sure.”

“No, Cas. You can’t. We can stick it out. We’ve only got four shows left and I have enough money to get some cereal and canned stuff. If you tell Bobby, he’ll get mad at Dad and then Dad will take us away for good.”

Castiel sat on the floor and cradled the phone against one ear, twisting the cord with his free hand. “You should just stay with Bobby. He would take better care of you.” Whatever Dean said was swallowed by the sound of a large truck passing by. “Are you near a highway?”

“Yeah, some shady little gas station between a highway and a dirt road. I can’t talk for too long though, I don’t know how many more quarters I can scrounge up to call.”

“Dean,” Cas said, and though it was just Dean’s name, it conveyed all of his worry clearly through the phone.

“I know, I know. I’ll be back soon, though. Find some more good books for Sammy, would you? He’s almost-”

The payphone cut off before Dean could finish his sentence. Castiel stayed by the phone for ten minutes, wishing Dean would call back, but he knew he wouldn’t. 

\--

When Dean got back to the motel, he wasn’t expecting to find John looming behind the door. “Where the hell have you been, boy?”

Dean’s stomach dropped and his fingers suddenly felt cold and clammy. “I-” he fumbled for words.

“You left your brother alone in a motel room? With the door unlocked?” Dean could smell the whiskey on his father from fives steps away. He backed up one more step to escape it and bumped into a chair, causing it to scrape against the floor. Sam stirred in his bed. “What if someone had come in here and hurt Sam?” John snarled. “What if someone had taken him?” His eyes burned with anger, but that didn’t hurt as much as the disappointment.

“I told him to,” Sam said quickly when he figured out what was going on. “It’s my fault.” Dean wanted to protest, but Sam was already out of bed and standing between Dean and their father. “I didn’t feel good so I made Dean go get me medicine.”

John looked hard at Sam, squinting his eyes. “Where is it, then?” He looked back at Dean.

“I didn’t have enough money.” The lie tumbled out automatically. “I didn’t go far. Just the mini mart by the highway.” That part was true. He’d been gone for ten minutes at the most.

“Fine. Go to bed. Sam, drink some orange juice at breakfast tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”

Sam and Dean both said, “Yes Sir,” and made for their bed as quickly as possible. They shared one, since the gun shop was only paying for John to get one room. Just like old times.

Sam buried his face in Gabriel’s tee shirt, Dean tucked Castiel’s sweater under his chin, and then fell asleep with their elbows and knees pressed together, a comforting reminder that they still had eachother.

\--

“Jello. Novak Mansion.”

“Gabe!” Sam grinned, wrestling with Dean over the dirty phone.

“Sammich!”

“We’re coming home!”

 

July

On the evening of July third, one car belonging to Bobby Singer pulled into the parking lot where four Novaks waited anxiously. Sam and Dean didn’t even take the time unpack their things before they bounded out of the car and ran with all the speed and energy of two kids that have been cooped up for hours. They slammed into Michael because he was closest, and some combination of struggling and strangely placed arms resulted in a very large group hug.

“I made you that pie, Dean,” Anna said, ruffling his hair, which was getting a bit out of hand. “And Gabriel came up with the weirdest salad dressing in the world, but I think you’ll like it, Sam.” 

“It’s awesome,” Gabriel promised. 

John called for his sons to come help carry things, but Michael pushed them toward Cas, Gabe, and Anna. “I’ll help him. You guys go.”

“This is the best thing I’ve eaten in a month,” Dean moaned around a forkful of chicken pot pie at dinner. He received pitying looks for his comment and ducked his head in embarrassment. The truth was, he very much wanted to forget the past month had ever happened. He didn’t want Bobby to find out and he didn’t want anyone’s pity. He just wanted to know that Sam got a full stomach and a good night’s sleep and hey, if he was in on that too, great. Sam was certainly enjoying his dinner now, and that made Dean smile.

After dinner, Gabriel sat on the kitchen counter and shared a glass of chocolate milk with Sam while he told the Winchesters all about the Fourth of July picnic. “It’s tomorrow, at the park across the street. There’s gonna be burgers and hot dogs and a pie eating contest. Me and Anna are making the pies for it.”

“Anna and I,” Castiel corrected from the couch, where he was sitting with Dean and looking through a small collection of movies. 

“Zip it, Grammar Nazi.” Gabriel stuck out his tongue. “Anyway, we have to make ten pies. You guys should spend the night and help.”

“You think Michael would let us?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Lucifer responded as he came around the corner and opened the fridge. When he glanced up and saw Sam’s heartbroken expression, he laughed hard. “I didn’t even hear the question, Sammo. Keep those puppy eyes up and I’m sure the answer is ‘yes’.”

“Get your own nicknames for him, Jackass,” Gabriel grumbled at Lucifer, who rolled his eyes and headed back to his room with a beer.

Michael did say yes, and even went with Sam and Dean to make sure the negotiations with John went okay. Luckily, John was too beat from the long drive to care either way. Before long, Sam, Dean, Cas, and Gabe were all piled on the couch in their pajamas with popcorn, movies, and blankets aplenty. Back to the Future was all set to play.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Anna warned. “I’m going to get you all up at six to start baking.”

“We’re young and bright eyed,” Gabriel protested. “A bit of coffee and we’ll all be fine.”

Despite his claims, the four of them were fast asleep in a tangle of blankets and limbs before Back to the Future II was thirty minutes in.

 

\--

Gabriel woke up with Sam’s hair in his nose and Dean’s foot in his crotch. One of his own feet was fast asleep, trapped under Castiel. “Ugh,” he groaned, unsure of what else to do. By the time he managed to extract himself, he’d woken all the others. “Coffee?” He offered. It was a unanimous ‘yes’.

By seven, there were two pies in the oven, two waiting to go in, three empty pie crusts, four bowls of various pie fillings, and flour all over the kitchen. Michael’s shift at the clinic started at eight, and when he walked in at seven thirty to grab breakfast, he took one look at the mess and decided to pick up a donut from a gas station instead. Anna laughed at his avoidance of the kitchen, and Gabriel made sure to clap a flour-covered hand on his shoulder before he left. 

“Blueberry, apple, lemon-meringue…” Castiel scrawled labels to identify each of the pies. “Are you making a peach pie, Anna?” He’d decided that was his favorite.

“Cherry Pie!” Gabriel announced loudly, holding up the one he’d just pulled from the oven. He hummed the Warrant song under his breath until Dean joined in and soon they were singing at the top of their lungs.

Lucifer came out of his room, ruffled from bed, and complained at them to shut up. “Haven’t you even heard of sleeping in, you terrible creatures?” 

Anna blew a handful of flour at him in response, and he retreated to his room and slammed the door dramatically.

By noon, all ten pies were complete and ready to go. Sam and Dean ran back to their apartment to grab swim trunks and their football, then the whole lot of them made their way across the street to the park. They dutifully helped Anna set up the pies at the contest table, Dean and Gabriel found out where to enroll, and then they left Anna behind and ran for the lake.

Dean was the first to jump in, followed closely by Gabriel. Sam waded in cautiously, and Castiel stood by the edge and toed the water. “This hardly seems safe,” he protested.

“It’s not like there are any sharks,” Dean said. Castiel squinted at him, not sure how to respond to such a dumb remark. Then Gabriel used Dean as a stepping stool, jumped off his shoulders, and splashed Castiel so thoroughly that he had no choice but to get in the water after all. 

After a long swim and a round of football that would leave them all sunburnt, they made their way over to where a couple of neighborhood dads were grilling burgers and hot dogs. Dean saw Castiel looking at one of the burgers longingly, so he went and got one to bring back.

“Here, since you were practically drooling.” He offered the plate to Cas.

“Didn’t you get one for yourself?”

“Nah, gotta save room for the pie eating contest.”

Gabriel, who had been on his way to get a burger of his own, came back. “Oh yeah. Right.” 

So while Dean and Gabriel went to get ready, Sam and Castiel found a nice shade tree to sit under and eat their lunch.

“Did you enjoy the books?” Castiel asked after he’d eaten a few bites of his burger. It was a bit burnt around the edges, but it was still delicious.

“Uh-huh. There were a lot of words I didn’t know, but the dictionary helped a lot. And when I finished the books I look for hard words to spell and learned them too. I can even spell “antidisestablishmentarianism.”” He spelled it out loud, letter by letter.

“Very impressive, Sam,” Castiel praised. “Do you know what it means?”

Sam faltered. “Uh…” It had taken him almost three days to remember how to spell it, but he hadn’t thought to look at the definition. “No, I don’t,” he admitted. 

Castiel laughed and promised that they’d look it up when they got back home. 

Just as they finished their burgers, Sam called out, “Look, the contest is starting!”

\--

Dean stared at the row of plates in front of him, each holding a different flavor of pie. Next to him was a large, sweaty man that looked like he could eat four pies and Dean too, but Dean wasn’t going to let that discourage him. The judge raised a flag in the air, then threw it down and yelled, “Start!”

Each contestant was given a fork and the instructions that all pie was to be consumed with a fork, and each plate had to be empty before they started on another. Dean dug into his first piece, a pecan pie that Anna had made, and was suddenly quite sure that he could do this. Pie was absolutely his favorite thing.

Gabriel was on his fourth piece when it started to become apparent that he shouldn’t have eaten so many snacks earlier in the day. In the time it took him to eat his fifth piece of pie, Dean ate two. He set down his fork and admitted defeat. 

A few other forks clattered against plates as other contestants gave up, and finally it was down to Dean and the big man next to him.

“Go Dean!” Sam called from the small crowd that had collected.

“Don’t you dare put that fork down!” Anna cheered alongside him. 

Lucifer, who had come for some odd reason, called, “Give up! You’ll never make it, you scrawny twig!”

If anything, that just spurred Dean on more.

Seven pieces of pie later, Dean was just about to drop his fork on his plate and collapse back in his chair when the man next to him coughed once, turned a bit green, and threw his fork down in disgust. “No more,” he groaned.

Full stomach temporarily forgotten, Dean swelled with pride and stood up from his chair. He held his fork high in the air and the judge announced him the winner. 

“What’s your name, son?”

“Dean Winchester!”

“Congratulations to Dean! He is the 1990 Pie Eating Champion! His prize, twenty-five dollars and free Biggerson’s pie for a year!” 

Dean couldn’t help but turn a bit green too, at that.

\--

“The fireworks are starting soon,” Castiel said to Dean, who was still lying on the ground two hours later, groaning about his full stomach. Gabriel was faring a bit better, and was currently chasing Sam around the park with a handful of lit sparklers. 

“Want to spread out the beach towels that Anna brought?” Dean asked, and Castiel agreed. They fetched the towels and found a nice spot overlooking the lake. 

Castiel had wanted to enjoy the day without bringing up the past month, but it had been nagging endlessly at the back of his mind. Dean seemed to notice, and asked if everything was alright.

“Are you okay, Dean? I only know what you were able to tell me on the phone those few times, but you were without food or your father’s protection. Did anything happen?”

Dean frowned, but he’d been expecting the topic to arise sooner or later. “Yeah,’ he sighed, “it wasn’t terrible, I guess. Kinda like old times.”

They’d never talked about Dean’s pre-Kanas life in length, but as they settled down on the towel together and the sky grew darker, the story came tumbling out.

“Dad used to do that a lot. Find us a motel room or a cheap apartment and leave us for a few days. For the first week or two it was usually fine. Dad would bring home pizza or make us mac and cheese. Sometimes he’d take us out for burgers or diner food. Then he’d make friends around town and go out drinking with them after work, which turned into spending the night at a bar or something. I don’t know.” 

Dean tucked his hands under his head and watched the sky, waiting for the fireworks to start. “You know, I’ve seen Star Wars Episode Four thirty-eight times?” He chuckled. “I used to pickpocket my dad,” he explained. “Mostly for food money, but after a while I’d saved up enough extra cash and I got myself a VCR player at a pawn shop. Then I’d go to the library and rent a few movies, and watch them while I waited for him to come home. I’ve seen The Return of Godzilla a lot of times too. Every library has that one.”

There was a loud pop, then an explosion of color in the sky, and Dean’s story drifted off. They watched the fireworks, red, white, and blue, light up the sky.

“I steal stuff a lot,” Dean admitted suddenly. “Well, I mean, not here. But on the road with Dad. Bread and canned stuff from gas stations and grocery stores. Sometimes I’ll steal candy if Sammy has a bad day. I stole him a few toy soldiers, too.”

“Dean,” Castiel started, but Dean kept going.

“I’m good at it. Stealing. And making Dad mad; I’m good at that, too.” Dean’s voice sounded strange, and Castiel could tell he was upset. “Sam likes to pick a lot of fights with Dad. He doesn’t really mean too, he just doesn’t get it. So I make Dad get mad at me instead.”

“Dean,” Cas sat up and looked at him, but Dean kept his eyes to the sky.

“He shoved me once, and I hit my head real hard on the counter. It bled a lot, but he didn’t notice because he was too drunk. I told Sammy I fell out of bed.” Dean’s voice cracked on the last bit, and he stubbornly avoided Castiel’s eyes.

“Dean, stop. You don’t have to say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Dean sat up and shook his head, lowering his eyes to the towel beneath them. “It’s okay, I’m sorry.” He hadn't meant to let it all tumble out like that, but after being cooped up with nobody to talk to for so long, it felt like he was overflowing. He looked around and, after making sure John hadn’t shown up for the tail end of the picnic, he leaned against Cas and dropped his head on his bony shoulder. “You can’t tell Sammy. You’ve gotta promise.”

Castiel frowned. “I promise, Dean. But you have to promise me something too.”

“Huh?” Dean asked.

“If John ever hurts you again, promise you’ll tell me. Right away.”

Dean was quiet for a minute. He lifted his head to watch Sam tackle Gabe into the grass and wrestle three packs of sparklers away from him. “I’ll be fine. As long as he doesn’t hurt Sam, it’s fine.”

Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean by his shoulder, and the evasive green eyes finally met his own. “If John hurts you, you tell me. Right away.” Castiel said it firmly, and this time Dean nodded. 

“I will. I promise.”

 

**August**

Band Camp. Everyone knew the stigma around it, and a week full of dirty jokes, crazy pranks, and tormenting freshman sounded like something that Gabriel was very much into. Sure, he had to attempt to play trumpet as well, but he’d learned how to do that years ago. Their father hadn’t done much for them in the twelve years Gabriel had known him, but he’d always insisted on music lessons. Piano for Michael, violin for Lucifer, flute for Anna, and trumpet for Gabriel. He’d never bothered with music for Castiel, though Michael had taught him a few simpler things on piano. Gabriel suspected that their father resented Castiel for driving their mother away, but it was just as likely that good old Dad knew Cas wouldn’t put up with any music teacher.

And so it was that, though he was two years out of practice, Gabriel was at least passable at trumpeting.

Michael dropped him off at the crack of dawn on the last Monday before school started. He had a duffel bag of clothes over his shoulder, a backpack full of silly string, duct tape, and other odds and ends, and a beat up trumpet case in one hand. A tall, snobby looking kid named Ethan Snyder showed him to where he’d be sleeping. 

“It’s not much, but you won’t be spending a ton of time in here anyway.” Ethan gestured to the large auditorium floor that was covered in sleeping bags. “Though the sleeping arrangements are lacking, having everyone sleeping in one room increases the potential for larger pranks.” The corner of Ethan’s mouth turned up in a small smirk that reminded Gabriel of Michael. Perhaps this Ethan kid wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

He went on to point out a hallway that led to bathrooms and showers. “There are some lockers in the bathroom if you have anything valuable to put away. Nobody will mess with your instrument, but anything else is, unfortunately, considered free game.”

Gabriel followed Ethan outside, where he pointed out one more building across a small field. “And that is the ladies’ sleeping quarters. Not off limits to pranks, but their Drum Major, Polly, is a force to be reckoned with. That concludes your tour.”

Gabriel rolled his shoulders, sore from the weight of his bags. “Got it all, but one question.”

“Yes?”

“Where’s the grub?”

\--

Ethan turned out to be a pretty fun guy, despite having the outward appearance of a snobby rich kid. When lunch rolled around he sat with Gabriel, beckoning over his two friends to sit with them as well.

“This is Arty, sister of Polly,” he introduced the girl, who should Gabriel’s hand with a firm grasp and nodded hello. Gabriel thought she was gorgeous in a don’t-fuck-with-me kind of way, and he was instantly intrigued. “And this is Trunks.” He gestured to a big, big man with no hair and an unamused expression. 

“Trunks?” Gabriel inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Trunks dropped his plate on the bench and sat down heavily, then looked Gabriel in the eye. “I like elephants,” he said seriously, then turned to his food.

Gabriel nodded slowly. “Noted.”

Trunks and Arty warmed up to him quickly enough, and though it was far from Sam, Dean, and Cas, he still found himself enjoying his time. He even found, after lunch when all of the band kids were dragged to practice, that he wasn’t as rusty at trumpet as he thought he might be.

\--

At six thirty on Tuesday morning, Gabriel and four others did the honor of waking everyone up with water balloons. Breakfast was loud and unorganized, but there was coffee. Following that was several hours of practice, and Gabriel didn’t get to talk to any of his new friends until lunch. 

“We would have been eating thirty minutes ago if you hadn’t fucked up the whole drum cadence,” Arty complained to Trunks, who had hit his bass drum so hard at one point that his stick had bounced off and hit one of the snares in the back of the head. 

“It made for a good laugh, though,” Gabriel offered.

“Yeah, whatever. Your trumpet sounds like a sad duck anyway, Novak.”

“You know,” Gabriel said seriously, waving a stick of celery at Arty, “I heard that trombones can do it in seven positions. That right?”

Ethan nearly choked on his milk, but Arty just rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Hey, at least it wasn’t a tromboner joke.”

“Touche.”

Gabriel thought to himself that Arty was cute when she smiled. 

\--

On Wednesday morning, Gabriel was pulled out of a dead sleep by an air horn, followed by someone yelling angrily that they’d almost pissed themselves. He would have thought it was funnier, but their drum major had kept them out practicing so late that all he could do was put on clothes and search, bleary eyed and stumbling, for coffee.

“Fucking hell,” he complained at breakfast. Ethan was a bit more chipper, but the rest of them looked just as bad as Gabriel felt. “It’s like he thinks I came here to play an instrument or something.”

“Drink up, short stuff,” Trunks rumbled. “It’s not over yet.”

Gabriel was at least awake enough to defend his honor in front of the lady. “I’m not short, I’m fun sized.”

Practice, by some great miracle, lasted for exactly seventeen minutes before the heavens opened up and the rain came pouring down. Any semblance of order was lost immediately as band kids started running and screaming, some for fear that their instruments would be damaged, and some merely for the fun of it. Gabriel stuck his trumpet under a bench, covered it with his shirt, and then took the opportunity to chase Arty around the field. 

“Nice bra, Art!” he called out, thanking whatever deity was responsible for convincing her to wear a white shirt. “The blue really suits you!”

She was faster than him, but she pretended to trip and let him tackle her into the mud. They rolled around and goofed off until the lightning siren went off and everyone was called out of the field.

Gabriel thought Arty was even cuter dirty with her cheeks flushed red. 

“Looks like we’re free for the afternoon,” Gabriel said, waggling his eyebrows. “Wanna make some music on my sheets?” He winked.

“You don’t have sheets, Novak. You have a sleeping bag. And you’re filthy.”

Gabriel laughed at that. “True enough, but that still didn’t sound like a definate ‘no’.” 

\--

As it turned out, it wasn’t a ‘no’. It was more of a ‘maybe later’, and when Thursday rolled around and practice ended early for the night, Gabriel showed Arty to the fancy broom closet he’d come across and she didn’t hesitate to shove him inside and pull the door shut behind them.

Gabriel opened his mouth and she must have sensed it coming because, as she wrestled his shirt off, she said, “if you make one more dirty band pun, I’m leaving you in this closet and taking your clothes with me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughed, and helped her out of her shirt as well. Neither of them did much talking past that; kissing was a lot more fun.

If there was one thing that was never in short supply at band camp, it was condoms. Sure, most of them were there for the sole purpose of condom balloons, but Gabriel was glad he’d thought to stick an extra one in his back pocket. As Arty sucked a mark into his neck that would last for days and he rolled the condom on, he thought that it was a bit funny that he was going to lose his virginity in a broom closet. “What better place than band camp?” he chuckled under his breath, and Arty didn’t even bother to question him.

\--

As all things are prone to do, band camp came to an end on Friday. Gabriel had successfully used all nine bottles of silly string on various people, one of whom was Arty’s sister Polly. She’d punched him in the gut so hard that he’d taken up residence under a tree for nearly ten minutes while he recovered. Arty called him a sissy and kissed him when no one was looking.

Around five in the afternoon, Michael’s car rolled up, and Gabriel bid his new friends farewell.

“See you at school on Monday?” Ethan asked, despite the answer being obvious.

“Unfortunately. Though if Dick ever found out who was responsible for the fart bombs and the bathroom flood, I might be suspended for the first week or two.”

“I’ll vouch for you,” Trunks said.

“Thanks, man, but I doubt it’ll do any good. The guy has it out for me, I swear.” Gabriel turned to Arty, who was gathering up her bags.

She gave him an awkward smile. “Not so much into that long-term stuff, but maybe I’ll see you around school?” 

Gabriel clapped her on the shoulder reassuringly. “Just my kind of girl. See you around, Art. It was fun.” He winked and waved goodbye.

\--

When Dean’s alarm clock woke him out of a sound sleep on the first day of sixth grade, he rolled out of bed and had his clothes on before Sam even managed to sit up.

“What are you so excited about?” Sam asked, tugging on his newest pair of jeans.

“It’s middle school, Sam. No more stupid little kids and no more being stuck in the same class with the same teacher all day. Plus eighth grade girls have boobs.”

“Ew, Dean.” Sam frowned, but Dean’s grin didn’t budge.

“It’s gonna be _awesome._ ”

\--

Dean and Castiel received their schedules in their homeroom classes. As soon as the bell rang, they both headed for their agreed meeting spot. Dean was practically breathless when he got there. “Art, fourth period?”

Castiel smiled widely. “Yes.”

“Yeah!” Dean yelled, throwing his fist into the air. 

Fourth period was slow to arrive, but when it did, Dean was the first one in the door. He found a table in the back, threw his backpack on one seat for Cas, and claimed another for himself. Cas came in about two minutes later and took his seat, and then after several more minutes, a blonde girl with a mouthful of bubblegum took one of the empty seats across from Dean. 

At first, Castiel seemed hesitant to talk to Dean in front of a stranger. The teacher outlined their first assignment- a few simple sketches to get a grasp on everyone’s current skill level- and Castiel dove right into it without saying much. Dean figured he’d warm up after a while and set to drawing. He scratched his pencil across the paper in seemingly pointless lines, then darkened the ones relevant to his drawing and erased some others. Slowly, the shape of a car began to emerge. Circles for the wheels, straight lines for the hood, and an even shading of charcoal grey across the entire thing until it started to closely resemble the Impala. It wasn’t until he was darkening the letters in the license plate that Castiel finally said, “You never told me you could draw so well, Dean.” 

In all honesty, it wasn’t anything extraordinary. One fifth grade class of absentminded doodles didn’t do a lot for perspective, and no matter how many times Dean tried to sketch out the silhouette of the seat inside, it just didn’t look right. But to Castiel, whose lopsided bowl of fruit was far too flat and featureless, it looked like a masterpiece. 

“Neat,” the girl across the table commented as well. Castiel quickly returned to his apple and Dean grinned at her.

“I like cars. Nice kitten, by the way.” Her drawing was of a comic styled kitten pawing at a ball of yarn. “I’m Dean.”

“Sherri,” she offered, popping her bubblegum loudly. Then she looked back down at her paper and added some whiskers.

For the second drawing, Dean drew a big pie. “After that pie eating contest, I wasn’t sure if I’d even like pie anymore,” he admitted to Castiel.

Cas glanced up to see if Sherri was paying attention. She wasn’t, so he responded quietly, “I wasn’t sure either. I can’t imagine eating that much of one thing.”

“Don’t lie,” Dean chuckled. “I’ve seen you eat burgers.”

Castiel didn’t say anything in return, but a few minutes later when Dean glanced over, he was sketching a hamburger on his page.

\--

Sam’s luck wasn’t quite as good. His teacher, Mrs. Dunn, was absolutely wonderful. It was Carson that was driving him crazy.

Sam was looking forward to showing off the totally awesome sixty-four pack of crayons that Bobby had bought for him, but Carson had that already, plus her box had a built in pencil sharpener. When Mrs. Dunn handed out their very first spelling test, Sam got a one-hundred-percent. Carson got a hundred and three extra credit points. And when recess finally came around and they were all released to the playground to play tag, Carson tagged Sam so hard he fell over and got a faceful of dirt. Everyone laughed.

The only clear option was to be better than Carson, so Sam took it upon himself to do everything in his power to impress Mrs. Dunn. When she handed out their first homework assignment, to write a paragraph or more about their favorite book, Sam tucked it carefully into his bag and started planning. It was due next Monday and he had a whole week to perfect it. He was going to take this Carson girl down.

\--

Gabriel was torn half and half between his teachers. He knew he was going to love his drafting class teacher, and he was pretty sure math wouldn’t be half bad, but it was going to take an act of God to get him through English class. Max and Casey, two of the kids he sat by, were pretty cool, but between miss-popularity-contest, a snotty blonde girl named Eve, and their dreadful teacher, Ms. Rodriguez, Gabriel was not looking forward to an entire semester.

The best part, though, was that now Gabriel had someone to sit by at lunch. He’d floated around his freshman year and joined various tables, but now when he got to the lunch room, there was a spot for him right next to Ethan and across from Arty.

“Who’d you get?” Ethan asked almost as soon as he sat down. They pulled out schedules to compare. It turned out he shared one class with Arty and two classes after lunch with Ethan, in addition to Trunks being in his math class. “Sorry about English, though,” Ethan sighed. “That teacher’s a bitch.”

“Nothing some alcohol won’t fix,” a kid with blonde spiky hair said from two seats down. “You guys coming over on Saturday?” The question was directed at Arty and Trunks, but after a moment, Blondey nodded to Gabriel and added, “You’re invited too, if you want.”

As tempting as a drunken high school party sounded, Gabriel hesitated. Cas would kill him if he went off to party after just the first week of school, and Dean had been saying something about spending Saturday riding bikes down to Biggerson’s to cash in on some of that free pie. “I’d better not this time. Got plans, I think. Thanks though, maybe next one.”

Even with the invitation turned down, Gabriel went to his next class with a smile on his face. Most people remembered his pranks from last year, he had a group of friends this year, and he was already being invited to parties. Not bad for a Sophomore.

\--

The entire week was a whirlwind of new teachers, new classes, new assignments, and new everything, and by the end of it, Dean was exhausted. He tried to wait up for John on Friday night, but by one in the morning he was passed out on the couch. He woke up to pee at four in the morning and John still wasn’t home, so he tucked himself into bed and didn’t wake up again until half past noon. Sam had been awake for hours and was scribbling away in a notebook at the kitchen table. 

“Whatcha working on, Sammy?” Dean asked, flopping down on the couch. He glanced at his movie collection and felt no desire to watch one. “Don’t you wanna go hang out with Cas and Gabe? I’m bored as hell, man.”

“There’s a stupid girl in my class named Carson and she thinks she’s better than me,” Sam complained. “So I’m writing all about the Grimm Fairy Tales books for homework so I can get a better grade.”

“Competing for teacher’s pet? You’re such a freakin’ nerd, Sammy.” Dean’s stomach growled and he rolled off the couch and headed to their fridge. The contents made him wonder if it was worth the money on the electric bill to even keep the fridge running. “Dude,” he complained to Sam. “Can we please go over to Cas and Gabe’s? I’m freakin _starving_.”

“Not until I’m done,” Sam mumbled, rubbing a word away with his eraser and replacing it with a longer one.

Dean opened each and every cabinet and took inventory. There was one box of stale crackers, one almost-empty jar of peanut butter, two cans of spaghettios, a box of hamburger helper, salt, and pepper. He checked the freezer and found an ice pack and a forgotten beer that had cracked open and sprayed the inside, resulting in beer colored icicles and an unpleasant smell. When he climbed on the counter to check the cabinets he couldn’t reach, he accidentally stumbled across John’s whiskey stash and slammed the cabinet shut before Sam could see. Then he hopped down and snatched his brother’s notebook right out from under his pencil.

“C’mon, Sam, you can write over there.” He didn’t even bother with shoes, he just headed for the door, holding Sam’s notebook out of reach. 

“What’s your problem, Dean?” Sam complained, and Dean wondered what exactly was his problem indeed. Yeah he was hungry, but that didn’t quite explain his need to get out of their apartment right that second. He just needed to get away. Bobby’s house was too far, but Cas and Gabe were just across the hall. 

“Bout damn time, Winchesters,” Gabriel greeted them at the door.

Dean dropped Sam’s notebook into his arms and announced, “Man, I’m starving.”

Gabriel escorted Dean to the kitchen and Sam went straight for Cas’ room, knocking quietly on the door.

“Come in,” Castiel called, and Sam pushed the door open. Cas was sitting on his floor with several pages of math homework spread out on the floor around him. 

“Can I join you? I’m trying to write about Grimm’s Fairy Tales so I can show Mrs. Dunn that I’m better than stupid Carson, but Dean keeps bugging me.”

“Of course, Sam.” Cas gestured to his desk, which he seldomly used. “Help yourself.”

 

In the kitchen, Dean was scarfing down a bowl of cereal. “Dude, thanks,” he said to Gabriel between bites. “There is _nothing_ to eat at my place.”

“Anytime. Always plenty to eat here.”

“Not if you two don’t quit eating like horses,” Michael complained as he came into the kitchen. He looked like he’d just woken up too, with his hair sticking up at odd angles and deep bags under his eyes.

“Jesus, Michael, you go on a bender or something? You look like shit.”

Michael glared at Gabriel, then went to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Just working extra hours at the clinic. You know, to pay for all the food.” 

Dean, suddenly self conscious, stopped eating mid-bite.

“Wow, Michael, way to be a total ass,” Gabriel chastised. 

Michael turned around and saw Dean, spoon still hovering over the bowl, and his face fell. “Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just crabby because this past week has been hell at the clinic, and I shouldn’t take it out on you guys. Please, eat whatever you want. You’re growing; it’s important. I really don’t mind.” He sighed deeply, rubbed his face with one hand, grabbed his coffee and retreated to his room. 

Dean finished his bowl of cereal in a more subdued manner, then made sure he washed and put away his bowl and spoon before he went to watch TV with Gabe. 

They didn’t end up going to Biggerson’s because it decided to rain, but Sam probably wouldn’t have let them anyway because he didn’t finish writing his essay until it was already getting dark out. 

“Mrs. Dunn’s gonna love it,” he announced, beaming with pride. His stomach growled and he groaned, remembering that he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Cas, do you think we can stay for dinner?” he asked, despite knowing the answer was always yes. 

This time, though, Dean interrupted. “Nah, not tonight, Sammy. I just remembered I have that thing due for English. We should get home.”

“But Dean,” Sam whined, no doubt about to chastise his brother for not working on it all day. “I don’t want to go home-”

“Sam, didn’t you say you wanted to watch Godzilla again anyway?”

Sam snapped his mouth shut, then after a meaningful look from Dean, he answered, “Oh yeah. Let’s go.”

Sam didn’t actually want to watch Godzilla, but living with John had forced Sam and Dean to come up with codewords. “Go watch Godzilla,” meant, “You need to get out of here right now,” and while Sam didn’t understand the context now, he knew Dean wouldn’t use it if it wasn’t important. They collected their things and said goodnight to the Novaks, then headed back home.

John, much to their surprise, was there when they arrived, so they didn’t talk about it until dinnertime when Dean was cooking both cans of spaghettios and John retired for the night, claiming he’d eaten a big lunch at work and didn’t want dinner.

“What was that about earlier, Dean?” Sam finally asked when Dean set his bowl in front of him. He dragged his spoon through the reddish-orange gunk and frowned at it. “I hate spaghettios.” Dean offered up the bottle of hot sauce he’d found behind the hamburger helper, but Sam wrinkled his nose.

“Remember before we went on vacation how dad said we were bothering Michael and Anna and all of them?”

Sam’s head jerked up. “Gabe said that wasn’t true!”

“Well it’s not;” Dean said quickly, “not like that. They don’t mind when we come over and hang out and stuff, but Michael doesn’t make a lot of money so we can’t eat over there all the time. Feeding two extra people costs a lot of money.”

“Oh,” Sam said, lowering his head again. He thought about Michael and how nice he always was, and suddenly felt bad for eating so much food without thinking about it. Without saying anything else, he set to eating his spaghettios with a sense of duty. Dean followed suit. The Novak family was always doing stuff for Sam and Dean without every asking for anything back. Dean knew he wasn’t all that great at fuzzy-warm “thank you’s” and feelings, so instead, he would silently make himself less of a burden on them whenever he could. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do.

 

**September**

Her name was Heather, Dean learned, and she was the prettiest girl in the whole Science class. It hadn’t come to his attention at first because she sat in the back of the class and Dean had been late on the first day, earning himself a permanent spot at the front, right under the teacher’s nose. As if being front and center made it any easier to concentrate. If anything, the need to know what was going on behind him made it even harder to pay attention. 

Then, a little less than a month into the school year, Heather Wilkinson came rushing into the classroom three minutes after the bell with her wide brown eyes and messy chestnut hair and Dean saw her for the first time. “Whoa,” he’d whispered to himself, and the boy who sat next to him nodded in silent agreement. 

When art class rolled around, Dean told Cas all about her. “She’s really pretty,” he said for what must have been the tenth time. “I don’t know why I never noticed her before, but we have a group project next week and I’m going to ask her if she’ll work with me.”

“Are you certain that’s wise?” Castiel asked, not looking up from his disastrous attempt at watercolor.

“Yeah, I mean-” Dean paused, setting down his brush. “Why not?”

“If you ask her to be your group partner, you’ll have to work hard on the project. If you don’t, she’ll think you’re lazy and she will dislike you.” 

“Oh yeah,” Dean said ponderously. “Well I’ll work really hard and if I get stuck, maybe you can help too.”

Castiel frowned harder at his painting and smeared watery yellow across the hide of his giraffe. Even though the paper was thick, the paint continued to bleed into his blue sky, giving his giraffe a green aura. 

 

“Dude, you’re using way too much water,” Dean finally said, reaching over with a handful of paper towels to blot up the extra yellow paint. 

Castiel’s painting didn’t improve, but at least Dean stopped talking about Heather.

\--

“Dean, Sam,” Cas addressed his two best friends one Tuesday in September as they waited for the bus, “would you like to come for dinner tonight?”

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged nonchalantly. “Nah, man, it’s fine. We’ve got some stuff to eat at home”

“Oh,” Cas said, frowning. “All right.”

When he didn’t say anything further, Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s Castiel’s birthday today, you ignorant meatball,” he informed Dean. “So you’re coming over for dinner.” He wasn’t going to say anything about the way Dean and Sam had been weaseling their way out of dinner with the Novaks for the better part of a month, but he wasn’t about to let them ruin his brother’s birthday either.

Sam’s eyes lit up. “What are you having? Gabe are you gonna make a cake for Cas? Can I help?”

“Sure, sprout. You can help.”

“I’m not a sprout!” Sam protested, squaring his shoulders and standing as tall as he could. “I’ll be bigger than you in a couple years anyway.”

“I certainly hope not.” Gabriel had already been surpassed in height by Castiel and Dean, who almost seemed to be at war for who was taller. A month ago Castiel had been in the lead by a good inch, but Dean seemed to being going through a hell of a growth spurt, because now they were exactly the same height. Lucifer and Michael were both pretty tall, though, so Gabe had a feeling Cas would win in the end. He just wanted to know when _he_ was going to get his growth spurt. It was long overdue.

\--

Dean, Sam, and Gabriel spent the rest of the bus ride to school discussing cake and icing options, occasionally running something by Castiel to see if he liked the idea. Cas was fairly neutral, and insisted that he would enjoy anything they made.

If he were to be entirely honest, he wasn’t too concerned about cake or gifts. He just wanted to make it through the whole day without anyone harassing him, and hopefully without spending art class listening to how nice Heather Wilkinson’s behind was.

His first class of the day was French, something he always looked forward to. His teacher was very enthusiastic about teaching, and the class wasn’t overcrowded like most were. The day’s lesson was all about introducing oneself and making small talk over dinner, so they were instructed to pair up and go over the chapter. Castiel’s stomach turned and he glanced around nervously, unsure of who to ask or how to ask them, but a pretty girl with dark hair and a yellow cardigan came over and introduced herself. 

“I’m Hael,” she said unnecessarily. He knew that much from role call.

“Castiel,” he supplied, despite it being equally unnecessary. It seemed to be the expected thing to do. 

“Partners?” she suggested, holding up a notebook with a french conversation guide.

Castiel imagined he could hold a scripted conversation in French with a stranger. At least if he messed up, it could be excused as a mistake in the language and not his own. “That would be nice.”

Hael was pretty. Dean would think so, anyway. They spent the entire class working together and by the end of it, Castiel was fairly certain that Hael was flirting with him. He didn’t know how to respond, or even if he wanted to, but he was proud of himself for picking up on it. 

He saw her twice more in the halls that day, and both times she offered him a smile and a wave. The second time was just as he was walking into his art class with Dean, and, of course, Dean had to comment. “Cas, dude, she was totally smiling at you. What’s up with that?”

Something in the way Dean said it made Castiel frown. “Are people not allowed to smile at me, Dean? I do exist as more than your shadow.”

The jab rolled right off of Dean, who shrugged and answered, “I dunno, you just kind of avoid all attention. Thought it was weird.”

Castiel suddenly felt guilty for being rude to Dean. “You’re right, I apologize. Her name is Hael. She’s in my French class, and we studied together today.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth turned up in a suggestive grin. “Well would you look at that, Cas has a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Dean. I’ve never even spoken to her outside of today.” Cas sighed heavily and waited for their teacher to return their last drawing with their grades. He doubted his latest drawing of a nest of bees would bring back much more than a ‘C’. 

“Girlfriend, no, but she’s a girl and your friend, which means there’s always the possibility. Speaking of which, Heather-”  
Just as he was about to start in on stupid Heather, the teacher passed back his drawing of a werewolf with a big ‘A+’ on the back. He beamed with pride, then started talking about what he was going to draw next, and Heather, thankfully, was forgotten.

Castiel got a ‘B’ on his drawing. He chuckled at the irony.

\--

Since it was Castiel’s birthday, Anna picked them up from school and took them out for milkshakes before they headed back home to start cooking. Dean paid for his and Sam’s with the five dollar bill that he’d swiped from his dad’s pocket last time he’d done laundry. He had a quarter left over and he wanted to save it, but Cas had his eye on the juke box. Dean forked over his quarter and Cas, of course, picked Space Oddity. It was one of his favorite songs. 

 

When they got back to the Novak house, Cas was banished to his room so his birthday dinner could be prepared. Dean was in charge of keeping him there, which meant he was forced to do his homework under Castiel’s watchful eye. 

Middle school homework was a lot harder than elementary school homework, though, so despite being entirely unwilling to admit it, Dean was grateful for Castiel’s help. He had a hard time focusing on schoolwork alone, so when it came to homework, his attention span was non-existent. Cas kept him on track, though, letting questions about character analysis become interesting discussions, and making boring math problems into less boring puzzles.

“Math is very good for fixing cars,” he would explain, turning a simple math problem into a quest to find out how many miles per gallon a car must get if they used six and a quarter gallons of gas on an eighty seven mile trip. 

Before they knew it, Gabriel was knocking on the door and announcing that food was ready. As they took their seats, Gabriel announced grandly, “Tonight’s meal, brought to you by myself and the young Sam Winchester with assistance from Dearest Anna, consists of medium-rare pepper-jack and bacon hamburgers with all the fixings, homemade garlic and herb potato fries, and a dessert of carrot cake and vanilla ice cream. Dig in.”

Just the announcement set Dean’s mouth watering, and by the first bite of his burger he was hooked. He matched Cas for three burgers, partly because they were obscenely delicious, and partly because he missed eating Gabriel’s cooking guilt-free. He noticed Michael looking at him from across the table every so often, but he tried to ignore it and promised himself that he wouldn’t eat their food any more after this. For good measure, he didn’t help himself to the extra serving of fries he wanted.

After dinner, while Sam and Lucifer washed the dishes (because “Gabriel cooked, and hell if he’s doing dishes too”) Michael approached Dean.

“Can you help me with something for a minute?” He asked, nodding down the hall, toward where his room was. 

 

It seemed odd that Michael would request Dean’s assistance specifically, but it was said so casually that it didn’t seem to raise any alarms in anyone else. Dean frowned and followed. As soon as they were in Michael’s room, the door shut behind them.

“Are you eating?” Michael asked. Then he rephrased the question. “Is your dad buying you food? You used to come over all the time and eat, but then I said that stupid thing- I swear I didn’t mean it, I was having a shitty day- and now we never see you over here for food.”

“What?” Dean tried to play stupid. “Oh, no, we’ve got plenty of food...’

Michael studied him for a minute, then sighed. “Castiel said you’ve started eating a lot at school lunch, and that he’s caught you sneaking food into your bag. If your father isn’t grocery shopping, you need to tell someone. Maybe not me, if you’re not comfortable with it, but tell Bobby.” He smiled a bit. “You’re not going to outgrow Cas if you don’t eat well.”

“I’ll outgrow Cas, you just wait,” Dean argued with a hint of a smile as well. 

“In all seriousness, though, please don’t starve yourself and Sam because you think you’re being polite. And tell me if you need help. It’s what we’re here for, Dean.”

Serious talks made Dean’s skin crawl, and it was his automatic defense to crack a joke and change the subject, but there was no easy out here. Michael wanted an answer, and he wasn’t going to stop looking at Dean like that until he got one. So Dean sighed, bit the inside of his cheek, and said, “I’ll talk to Bobby. Thanks, Michael.”

It seemed to satisfy him. 

 

**October**

On the Friday before Halloween, Ethan found Gabriel coating all of the door handles in the science building with vaseline. He raised an eyebrow but, after a few months of getting to know Gabriel, he’d mostly stopped questioning. “Are you coming to Jeremy’s party tomorrow?”

“Uh,” Gabriel popped the cap back on the container of vaseline and shoved it into his backpack. “Yeah, I guess.” He’d promised Sam, Dean, and Cas that they’d go costume shopping tomorrow, but that wouldn’t take all day. “Can you give me a lift?”

“Sure thing. See you there.”

\--

“What’ll it be this year, Sammich? Drag Queen? Beetlejuice?” He pulled a hideous sweater from the discount rack and waved it in the air. “Oh look, you could go as Castiel!”

“I wanna be a firefighter!” Sam said, tugging on the sleeve of a big yellow raincoat. It wouldn’t fit him in a million years, but they could probably make an entire outfit from the sheer fabric ratio.

“I think we can work with this,” Gabriel agreed. He still had an old plastic fireman hat back home from one of his elementary school field trips. 

Sam ran off to show Dean his selection and Gabriel returned to the racks of donated clothes, hunting for something that he could turn into a costume. He was contemplating whether or not he would be able to turn the white leather jacket he’d found into a passable Elvis costume by Wednesday when it dawned on him that he was probably supposed to dress up for the party tonight. He redoubled his efforts, looking for something that he could throw together in a few hours.

“Are you still looking?” Castiel appeared at his shoulder clutching a matching set of white hospital clothes. When Gabriel raised an eyebrow in question, he simply said, “Mental patient.”

“I’ll say,” Gabriel scoffed. “I’m going to a party tonight and I need something I can wear right off the rack. I don’t have time to put anything together.”

Castiel tucked his outfit under his arm and started to look through the racks with Gabriel. Occasionally he would hold up something absurd or costumey and wait for Gabriel to dismiss it for one reason or another, then he would put it back and continue his search. At one point he made a quiet gasp of delight that got Gabriel’s hopes up, but Castiel’s discovery was nothing more than a sweater that he quickly tucked under his arm with his costume. Gabriel declared it hideous, but Castiel ignored him.

Dean finally made his selection on the other side of the store and brought it over to show them. It was, quite possibly, the most ridiculous collection of cowboy-themed clothing, complete with a hat and a ridiculous blanket that Dean insisted was a “serape”. Then he too joined the quest for Gabriel’s perfect costume.

Thirty minutes later, Castiel chuckled quietly to himself in the far corner of the store and lifted an outfit off the rack. “Perfect.”

\--

Ethan pulled up in his old blue Ford around eight and honked twice.

“Don’t stay out too late,” Michael said as Gabriel tugged his white and red striped socks up to his knees. “And I swear to god, if Jody is the one that brings you back at four in the morning…”

“Got it, got it. Christ, Michael, I’m not stupid enough to get myself arrested _before_ Halloween.”

Michael ignored his comment. “No drinking!” Gabriel looked at Michael like he was a complete and utter moron for even trying. Michael sighed and tugged at his hair. “Okay, whatever. I know you’re going to go get drunk. Just don’t come home in the back of a police car, don’t call me from a hospital, and do _not_ let anybody drive you home if they’ve been drinking.”

Ethan honked once more from outside. “Are you done yet, mom?” Gabriel laughed. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he found it comforting that his brother worried so much for him.

Michael tapped his chin a few times. “And no drugs. Okay, now I’m done.”

\--

The party was in full swing when Ethan and Gabriel got there. Arty was looking quite hot in her vampiress costume, but she was already well on her way to drunk and dancing with a guy that Gabriel had seen around school a few times, so he decided to let her have her fun with him tonight instead. Besides, there were plenty of other girls floating around the party. There were guys, too, but Gabriel wasn’t about to let that cat out of the bag.

“Beer?” Trunks offered, appearing suddenly from the crowd. Ethan accepted, but Gabriel declined. He planned on fully scoping out the party and finding a sealed drink that he could open himself, because there was clearly more going on that just some good old booze and high spirits.

“You gonna enter in the contest?” Trunks asked, looking Gabriel up and down as if deciding whether or not he was too embarrassing to stand next to. 

“I’m gathering you’re not,” Gabriel chuckled, eyeing his friend’s plain black shirt that read, “this is my costume,” in white letters.

“No,” Trunks said simply.

“Aw hell, why not?” Gabriel shrugged. There were some pretty good costumes, but they were no match for the one Castiel had found. It was, quite possibly, the most obnoxious white and red gym coach outfit in existence. A white shirt and sneakers paired with obscenely short red shorts and a matching red headband, all pulled together and completed with the loud metal whistle that hung from his neck. Not to mention his own addition, a pair of aviators that he pulled from his pocket and slid on his face to further embarrass his friends.

“Let’s get this party started,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, and then he slipped off into the crowd to find his (sealed) drink.

Five or six beers later, the party was still going strong and Gabriel was starting to lose track of what time it was. He was propped up against a wall waiting for the pisser when a blonde zombie-cheerleader sauntered by, giving him a wink and a, “Hey there, Coach.” 

As soon as he relieved his bladder, he headed back out into Jeremy’s crowded living room and scanned the faces for one covered in smudges of red lipstick and fake blood. He found her talking to another zombified cheerleader over by the door to the porch.

“Well hello there, ladies,” Gabriel spoke, pulling off his aviators in an exaggerated motion. He hung them from the cord that his whistle was on. “Skipping gym class?”

“Well if you’re the new coach, maybe I’ll have to come back,” the blonde one quipped, winking before taking another sip of her punch. The other cheerleader, a tall girl with dark, tangled hair, looked unamused. 

“So what have you lovely ladies been up to so far tonight?” Gabriel questioned. 

“C’mon, Jamie, let’s go.” The dark-haired girl tugged at her friend’s elbow, nodding toward the porch.

“Yeah, sure, Lucy.” Jamie said. “Wanna come with, Coach?”

Gabriel wasn’t sure where he was being invited, but he shrugged and took a swig of his beer before following them out onto the porch. Jamie’s ass swished back and forth in her tutu, and in his drunken state, he found it mesmerizing. 

The glass door slid shut behind them and suddenly it was quieter, which Gabriel found surprisingly relieving. A small circle of people sat off to one side of the porch, passing around a awkward looking cigarette and talking in low tones. 

“Are you coming?” Jamie asked when Gabriel paused. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He tried to blink away the haze of alcohol, joining the group and sitting between Jamie and a guy dressed like Count Dracula. Across from him, a Mummy coughed and passed the cigarette to Lucy, who put it between her lips and breathed in for a long longer than Gabriel though you were supposed to. Then the cloud of smoke hit him and he suddenly remembered all the times Lucifer had come home with that smell clinging to him before their father had left. “Uh, weed?”

“Duh,” Lucy said, passing the joint, not cigarette, to Jamie.

“Cool,” Gabriel shrugged, trying to play it off. 

“Hey, aren’t you that kid that always fucks with Dick Roman?” The Mummy asked after a moment or two, and Gabriel grinned despite himself.

“I guess my disguise isn’t as deceiving as I thought.” He winked for good measure.

“Dude,” the Mummy said reverently. “You’re like, my hero.”

Gabriel felt good. He was pretty intoxicated, Jamie was snuggling up against him to escape the slight October chill, and Count Dracula was recounting one of Gabriel’s greater Freshman moments in which he’d coated the football field in dish soap before a rainy game. So when the joint came around to him and nearly the entire group eyed him expectantly, he plucked it out of Jamie’s small fingers and pinched it between his own, then put the end between his lips like everyone else had done and sucked in a deep breath. 

The urge to cough was so strong that his eyes watered, but he channeled all of his trumpet-playing lung capacity and refused. After a moment he exhaled in a deep sigh, letting a cloud of smoke settle over the already foggy circle. He cleared his throat, waited a minute, and took one more hit for good measure, then passed it on to Count Dracula.

About five minutes later, Lucy stood up and announced that she was going to go find more beer and bring some back. She slid the door open and the rush of music and voices hit Gabriel like a train. He swayed away from the noise, then the door slid shut again and he swayed back, shaking his head. “Whoa,” he muttered to himself. His stomach turned and his toes felt awfully cold. 

About seven minutes later, Gabriel started to wonder if Lucy had gotten lost. “You think she’s alright?” he asked Jamie, looking expectantly at the door.

“She’s been gone for like, two minutes, Coach.” She blew a cloud of smoke into his face, then pressed the joint into his fingers. 

When the door opened again to reveal Lucy and another guy carrying about eight beers between them, the song changed abruptly and Gabriel could have sworn he heard a siren. He remembered Michael’s warning about getting arrested tonight. Then he remembered the other warning, about drugs. He looked guiltily at the joint between his fingers and passed it off to Lucy without taking another hit. 

A minute later, he was still on edge. “Did you guys hear sirens?” He asked, glancing at the door. A partygoer in a poorly put together police suit danced by and Gabriel’s eyes bulged. 

“Would you chill?” Lucy grumbled, shoving a cold beer into his hands. He looked down and saw that the top was still on. Good. He pried it off and swallowed several mouthfuls. 

His fingers and toes were tingling and his skin felt like it was vibrating, so he tried to focus all of his attention on peeling back the corner of the beer’s wet label. It crumbled and flaked away unevenly, and the tacky substance that held it on stuck to his thumb. Somebody was watching him. He jerked his head up and looked back through the sliding glass door, half expecting to see Jody waiting for him with a pair of cuffs. 

The Mummy finished off the last of the joint and stubbed it out against the stone floor of the porch, then conversation picked up about costumes again. The hair on the back of Gabriel’s neck prickled and his breath came up short. “Dude, are you okay?”

Gabriel whipped his head around and stared, wide-eyed, at the Mummy. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… gotta piss.” He stood suddenly, tipping over his beer, but he didn’t stop to pick it up. The alcohol was making it hard for him to find a straight path to the door and something was wrong, wrong, wrong. He grasped the handle and yanked, then stumbled back when the noise of the party slammed into him at full power. He was about to retreat back to the porch when Arty spotted him and dragged him inside. 

“How’s it swingin, Gabey-baby?”

“Don’t,” Gabriel frowned at the weird name. “I uh, gotta call someone. Phone?”

“Kitchen,” she pointed, smacking him on the lips with a wet, rum flavored kiss. 

Though he knew the number by heart, his hands were shaking so hard that he misdialed once and woke up a very unhappy grandmother. The second time he got it, and he clutched the phone to his ear as it rang. “Don’t be Michael, don’t be Michael,” he prayed.

“Yep?”

“Luce?”

“Brother of mine?”

“Something’s wrong,” Gabriel stuttered out. “I’m at a party and I had some beer and it was cool and then some kids were smoking and I might have joined them and now I’m freaking out and Michael’s gonna fucking kill me and I want to come home but I don’t know where-

 

“Gabe- _Gabriel_. Shut the hell up. I’m on my way.” The dial tone buzzed in Gabriel’s ear, but he couldn’t pull the phone away. It was his only connection to home, to safety, and he sank down on Jeremy’s kitchen floor with it cradled against his ear, wild eyes watching to make sure nobody came in.

He was still clutching the phone twenty minutes later when his older brother sauntered into the kitchen, grabbed his upper arm, and hauled him off the floor. “C’mon, buddy,” he grumbled. Gabriel let the phone drop and grabbed onto the fabric of Lucifer’s jacket. He reminded himself of Sam, clutching to his brother that way, but his brain was in full blown panic-mode and he didn’t care.

Nobody seemed to notice the pair of them leaving, but that might have been partly because Gabriel didn’t remember the trip from the kitchen to the passenger seat of Michael’s truck. All he knew is that they were suddenly driving, and Lucifer’s jacket was tucked around him like a blanket. 

“Alright, listen up, shit-brains,” Lucifer said affectionately. Gabriel pulled in a ragged breath but it came up short, so he sucked in three more in quick succession. “I’m going to tell you a couple of things, and I want you to listen.” Gabriel nodded weakly, eyes glued to the road in front of them. He bit his lip hard. “Sometimes people smoke weed and everything is gravy. You get high, you feel good, you get hungry, and you get sober. Sometimes, people smoke weed and they freak the fuck out.”

“Awesome,” Gabriel wheezed.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Lucifer explained. “The first and most important thing to remember when you’re having a panic attack is that you’re not actually going to die.”

“Feels like it,” Gabriel whimpered. Lucifer continued to talk, but Gabriel’s imagination was in over-drive. Terrified, he squeezed his eyes shut. Michael was screaming at him, disappointed and furious. Then Michael’s young face aged and changed and it was their father, looking at Gabriel like he was nothing. Looking through him. Like he looked at Castiel. Then Castiel was looking at Gabriel like that, and so was Dean, and so was Sam. All of them looking at Gabriel like they weren’t seeing him. Like he was nothing to them. Then, one by one, they were leaving. He was alone, and hated. Everyone hated him. Someone slapped him hard in the face.

“Hey!” Lucifer scowled at his brother. Gabriel blinked a few times and looked around, taking in the records strewn across the floor and the pile of band tees by the closet door. Hundreds of musicians looked down from magazine pages taped to the walls. Lucifer’s room. It was blurry, though, so Gabriel wiped at his eyes and his hand came away wet. 

“Now _listen_ ,” Lucifer insisted.

“Panic attack,” Gabriel repeated from what he remembered. He was sitting on Lucifer’s bed. “Not dying.”

Lucifer nodded, then held up a monstrous blanket. “The second rule of panic attacks,” he said, tossing the blanket up and waiting for it to settle over Gabriel,” is that nothing can get you when you’re under the blankets.”

Gabriel was suddenly reminded of much younger years, when Michael and Lucifer had to take turns assuring him that there were no monsters under the bed. Eventually, they had convinced him that nothing could get him so long as he was under the covers. It made sense, then. In a way, it made sense now too.

“The third rule is that it will end. You’ll feel better soon, it just takes a while. So you sit your ass there, I’ll sit my ass here, and we’re gonna wait it out. Good?”

“Okay,” Gabriel said feebly from beneath the blanket. He tipped over on his side and breathed in the familiar scent of his brother’s cigarettes.

Silence settled over the room and Gabriel shut his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. His ears buzzed and he fidgeted, and just as his imagination was about to spiral out of control, Lucifer began to play his violin.

Gabriel’s attention was sucked in wholly, and he forgot his train of thought in favor of following the crisp, straight notes of the music. Briefly, when Lucifer’s playing got louder, he wondered if Michael might come barging in to chastise their brother and discover Gabriel’s misadventure, but then he remember that every Novak in the house had long ago learned to tune out any noises coming from Lucifer’s room at all hours of the night, erratic violin practice included. 

As Gabriel’s breathing settled into a more steady pattern and his fingers and toes stopped tingling, Lucifer slipped into a familiar tune. Slowly, Gabriel sat up and peeked his head out from under the covers, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around his body. Lucifer’s eyes were closed and his face was half concentration, half confidence as he played [Sweet Child O’ Mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cksvLRO8YaY) like it was second nature.

Lucifer played for nearly an hour, covering several of Gabriel’s favorite rock songs and, of course, Sympathy for the Devil. When the very last note of Back in Black faded into the silence of the night, Lucifer dropped his violin into its case, stretched as far as he could in the chair, and said “All right, scram. I need my beauty sleep.”

Gabriel, feeling whole again, yawned and unwound himself from the blanket. “Thanks, Luce.” He took a step or two toward the door, then hesitated. “You’re not going to tell Michael right?” 

“Nah. You’ve gotta learn somehow. But next time you decide to get high, come to me first. I’d rather have you home and tripping balls then at some shady teen party.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’m so not getting high with you, dude.” Lucifer just shrugged, and Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Thanks, though. I mean it.”

Lucifer made a face. “Get out, you disgusting sap.” Gabriel shut the door just in time to avoid an airborne pillow.

“Night, Satan,” he said through the door.

\--

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Popcorn?”

“Check.” Dean held up the bowl, eyes still focused on the television.

“Candy?”

“Check!” Sam held up his portion of the Trick-or-Treating haul. They’d agreed not to eat any candy until they got to the Winchester’s and set up their movies.

“Movie?”

“I’m working on it,” Castiel grumbled, struggling with the cords behind the television. “Dean, are you certain this machine still works?”

“Yeah it still works,” he rolled his eyes, passing the popcorn to Gabe and rolling off the couch. “You just have to be gentle with it.” The VCR player was Dean’s, and it had been through a lot over the past few years. To be honest, it hadn’t been in the best condition when he’d bought it at the pawn shop. “Like this,” he demonstrated, plugging the cord into the back of the machine gently, then wiggling it a bit. “You don’t just cram it in there.”

“That’s what she said,” Gabriel called from the couch. Castiel glared at his brother and nodded sharply in Sam’s direction. Luckily, Sam was too busy digging for a twizzler.

“What?”

“Alright, first up: Amityville Horror,” Dean interjected.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Tryna scare the piss out of your little brother, Winchester?”

“I won’t get scared!” Sam insisted, puffing up his chest. “I bet Cas will get more scared than I will.”

Castiel deflated into the couch. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Sam.”

“Y’all are babies,” Dean said, grabbing the remote and dropping down on the couch between Cas and Gabe. Sam was still sitting on the floor sorting through his candy. “Ready?”

“Go for it.”

Dean grinned as the lightening flashed on screen, interspersed with the flash of a firing rifle in each of the house’s windows. From the outside, the house itself looked like it had an angry, menacing face. Dean had first discovered the movie a long time ago, and he’d had to swap the tape’s case to a kids movie so the librarian would let him check it out, but it still remained one of his favorites. He glanced over to see Cas pulling up the couch’s plaid blanket to his chin. Sam, on the other hand, was watching with a fascinated expression while he sifted through the rest of his candy. He unwrapped a tootsie roll and popped it in his mouth. 

Trick-or-treating had been fun, but this was the real treat. Piled on the couch with his best friends and a bowl of popcorn that Gabriel had yet to share. Dean reached over and grabbed a handful, offering some to Cas. 

John came home just as Father Delaney was trying to bless the house, and he scowled at the television. “Isn’t this a bit mature for your brother?”

The question was aimed at Dean, but Sam answered, “Probably.” Gabriel laughed; John didn’t look like he found it very funny. 

After a moment he grumbled something and headed for the fridge to pull out a beer. “You boys behave,” he called, and then disappeared into his room and left them to their movie.

Somewhere around the point where the babysitter got locked in the closet, Sam abandoned his candy and crawled up onto the couch between Dean and Gabriel, covering himself with a blanket as well. 

“What, you scared?” Dean teased.

“No,” Sam insisted. He stuck his tongue out and burrowed further under the covers.

Castiel, however, was a bit pale. “This movie is surprisingly disturbing.”

Dean just grinned some more. “It’s _awesome,_ ” he corrected. 

\--

Dean thought he heard someone call his name. He cracked his eyes open and tried to roll over, but one of his arms was trapped under Castiel and his legs were crammed between Gabriel and the couch. He was surprisingly comfortable with his cheek pressed up against Cas’ chest and Sam’s plaid blanket keeping him warm, but when his name was repeated, a cold chill ran down his spine. He yanked his legs and his arm free and stumbled off the couch like it was full of snakes.

“Dad?” He croaked, mouth dry from too much popcorn and soda. 

“I don’t know what the hell you boys think you’re doing, sleeping all together like that, but you better clean up this mess and get Sam to bed right now or those boys aren’t spending the night here again. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir!” Dean’s eyes went to the almost-empty bowl of popcorn that had landed upside down on the floor and he went for it first, picking the bits out of the carpet and trying to ignore the way his dad’s eyes burned on the back of his neck.

“I expect better from you. You aren’t some preteen girl at a slumber party, so you’d better not act like one.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean repeated. 

“You’re supposed to be setting a better example for Sam, too. What’s he gonna think, seeing his big brother laying like that with another boy?” The question was clearly rhetorical, so Dean kept his mouth shut and continued to pick kernels out of the carpet, hoping his dad didn’t look at Sam and see the way he was tucked into Gabriel’s side.

Luckily, John didn’t say anything else. Dean moved on to collecting candy, and John stood and watched until he was satisfied, then turned on his heel and went back to his room. The second his door shut, Cas was slipping off the couch and helping Dean round up the wrappers. 

“I don’t understand why he’s so mean,” Castiel said quietly. His own father had never been pleasant, but he hadn’t been mean either. He just existed, and then one day he left. “Are you alright, Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His ears were burning with embarrassment. He didn’t want Cas to see how much his Dad was disappointed by him. He didn’t want Cas to think he was a bad role model for Sam. 

They finished cleaning in silence, then Dean extracted his little brother from Gabriel’s smothering hold and carried him to his bed. Sam didn’t stir one bit. 

Dean fished two pillows out from the linen closet and carried them back to the couch. One he gave to Castiel, one he tucked into Gabriel’s side where Sam had been. He helped Cas arrange the blankets too, then found the remote and turned off the static TV. “Goodnight, Cas,” Dean mumbled.

“Goodnight, Dean. Sleep well.”

 

**November**

Almost as soon as November hit, Gabriel was hunting for recipes in Bobby’s old recipe book. Sam seemed to share his enthusiasm, and watched while he made notes in the margins about different spices and seasonings. He and Gabriel spent an entire day after school comparing three different types of cranberry sauce. 

Gabe had finally decided on merging two of the recipes and was working out the measurements on the back of his math homework when Michael rang Bobby’s doorbell. 

“Come on in, boy,” Bobby called from his desk. He had his feet up on a stack of books and was reading what looked like a book about ghosts.

Michael let himself in and came into the room wearing his scrubs. It had become the habit, after John forgetting about his boys one too many times, that Michael would pick up all four of them from Bobby’s after he got off of work and take them back to the Novak house until John got home or it was time for bed. Dean would always pretend he’d seen his dad pull in, of course, but Michael knew he was just trying to keep them from worrying.

“You look like hell, kid. Long day?” Bobby set down his book and put his feet on the floor. 

“You could say that.” Michael’s hair was a mess and there were bags under his eyes and a bandage wrapped around his forearm. Something that looked a bit like vomit had been hastily scrubbed off his shirt. “Got bit, kicked, and puked on by a kid, then verbally assaulted by his parents.” As an afterthought, he said, “I should probably take this shirt off.”

By the time he’d stripped down to his undershirt, Bobby was holding up two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “Sit for a bit. Let the boys play for a bit longer and we can have a chat.” 

Michael hesitated and glanced at the clock, but Bobby waved the bottle of whiskey back and forth a bit and he sighed in defeat. “Yeah, that would be nice, I suppose.”

“How about you guys scram for a bit, huh?” Bobby suggested to Cas, Dean, Sam, and Gabe, who were spread out across the living room working on various projects and school work. “I think I got a chess set in that linen closet upstairs. They slowly picked their things up and migrated toward the stairs, casting suspicious looks at both Michael and Bobby. Gabriel raised a questioning eyebrow at Michael, who returned it with a small shrug.

As soon as they hit the top of the stairs, they were practically tripping over each other to be the first into the smallest guest bedroom. It was right above the kitchen, and if you pressed your ear to the floor in just the right spot, it was easy to eavesdrop on conversations being held below.

“Bet those snot-nosed kids are eavesdropping,” Bobby’s voice came through the floor, muffled. Dean and Gabriel struggled to keep giggles contained. 

“Probably,” Michael agreed. “I imagine Castiel is looking at them with an expression of disapproval.”

All eyes swiveled to Castiel, and found him doing just that. Their laughter bubbled up until they couldn’t control it.

“What?” Castiel frowned. He couldn’t imagine why his face was suddenly quite so funny.

“Shh,” Dean said, shoving Gabriel over and pressing his ear back down.

Sam couldn’t find a spot that he could hear from because Dean and Gabe were hogging the good one. “What are they talking about?”

“Christmas. Bobby says he’s going away?” Dean pressed his ear to the floor a bit harder.

“-to Cali. Got some friends that live over there and I figure I ought to go visit them. God knows Ellen’s too damn stubborn to set foot in Kansas, ‘specially not while John’s here. I’d hope she’d forgiven him by now. Anyway, I’m gettin’ off track. I’m gonna be gone for Christmas, so I’d like to make it up to them for Thanksgiving. Got plenty of room over here, so why don’t you and your whole entourage come over here and I’ll do the cooking.”

“That sounds great, but I think Gabriel will fight you on the cooking part. He’s got it in his head that he’s going to be some master chef one day or something.” 

Gabriel scoffed at his brother’s skeptical tone. “Pastry Chef, jackass!” he yelled loud enough to be heard from downstairs. 

“Fuck off, Gabriel!” Michael responded, but it was followed by a chuckle. “Kids these days, huh?”

They went on to talk about Anna and her plans for art college, then Lucifer and the record shop he worked at in hopes of owning it one day. They talked and talked until Gabriel and Dean got bored of listening and went to find the chess set. 

Sam still wanted his turn though, so as soon as they left he pressed his ear up against the hardwood and listened.

“-got bored by now?”

“Probably. Shall we test it?” A little louder, Michael said, “Gabriel is never going to get any taller.”

Bobby followed with, “And Dean Winchester likes ballet.”

Gabriel and Dean remained oblivious, no longer able to hear Michael and Bobby, but Sam had to fight back giggles. 

“Looks like we’re in the clear.” Bobby said. “Here, then, I wanted to give this to you.”

There was some shuffling, then Michael’s voice said, “Bobby, I can’t take this.’

“Don’t you fight me, now. I know you’ve been feeding those boys more than John has, and I’ve seen the way they eat. Just use it on some groceries and hopefully it will keep them from eating you out of house and home.”

“It’s a bit much for groceries, Bobby…”

“We’ll I’ve got a few months of catching up to do. I don’t think Dean would have told me, but I was over there to talk to John the other day and I went to grab a beer from the fridge. Nothing but alcohol and cobwebs in that fridge.”

“He said he would speak to you about it,” Michael sighed.

“Boy doesn’t like to talk about his feelings. Gives him the creeps, I think. With a dad like John, though, it makes sense. He seems to think feelings are reserved for babies and girls.”

“John seems a bit….”

“Like a jackass? He is, sometimes. And sometimes he’s a good man.”

“I was going to say sexist. And homophobic.”

Castiel sat on the floor next to Sam, apparently bored since he’d been excluded from the first game of chess. “What are they talking about?”

Sam sat up. “I don’t know if I should tell you…”

“That’s why eavesdropping is bad,” Castiel frowned. “You learn things that you’re not supposed to know, and then you can’t tell anyone. It’s okay, though, you don’t have to tell me.”

\--

They stayed pretty late, until Michael was sure the whiskey had worn off and Castiel was nearly nodding off in the rocking chair he’d found upstairs. When Bobby gave the word, they all collected their backpacks and headed out to pile into Michael’s truck. 

Sam lagged behind a bit, though, and when everyone else was out of earshot he asked Bobby, “How come you made Dad promise to stop drinking, but you don’t yell at him cuz he started again?”

Bobby looked surprised, then his face dropped and he sighed a deep sigh. “You ever shoveled snow in a blizzard? Pointless, that’s what that is.” When Sam didn’t seem to understand, he sighed again and pulled him in for a hug. “I’ll talk with your Daddy again soon, Sam. He probably just needs a little pep talk.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, satisfied. “Thanks Bobby. See you tomorrow.” He waved and ran across the driveway to pile in with the others.

When they were home, tugging on their pajamas and getting ready to brush their teeth, Sam found he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Bobby gave Michael a bunch of money for groceries so we can eat over there again, and Gabe said he was making french toast tomorrow, so can we go in the morning? Please, Dean?” 

“What?” Dean asked, knitting his eyebrows together and looking at Sam like he’d misheard. “How do you know that?”

“Bobby said so after you stopped listening through the floorboards. Michael said that you were supposed to tell Bobby that Dad wasn’t buying us food but you didn’t because feelings give you the creepy-crawlies.”

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean said after Sam spit it all out. “Fine, we can go in the morning.”

They brushed their teeth and said goodnight to their dad through his closed door, then climbed into bed. Sam fell right to sleep, but Dean lay awake staring at the ceiling. Part of him felt guilty for making Bobby give them more money, indirectly or not, but part of him felt relieved. Trying to make up excuses to get out of dinner with his two best friends all the time was exhausting, especially when he knew there was no real food to come home to. 

One day, he was going to get a job and make a lot of money to pay Bobby back with. Until then, he’d just have to make it up by helping fix cars. That, he could do.

\--

Thanksgiving seemed to linger just out of reach forever. There was always one more test, one more assignment, one more class. Gabriel’s teachers were laying on the homework hard, and he expected it would take a miracle to finish everything they’d assigned over the break, especially if he wanted to cook Thanksgiving dinner. 

Their break started on a Wednesday and, at Castiel’s insistence, they all rode to the church and holed up in the loft to spend the day studying and doing homework. It didn’t help that it was beautiful outside, and before long Dean had abandoned his homework to sift through Gabriel’s record collection.

“How’d you get all these, anyway? They cost a lot of money and you’re not super rich. Did you steal them?”

“Course I didn’t steal them, stupid,” Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes. “Lucifer got them all. The record store he works at gives him a really good deal and sometimes they sell used records for super cheap. That’s what most of these are, so be careful with them.” 

“Of course I’m careful with them. Except for Abba. Who listens to Abba?” Dean wrinkled his nose and thumbed past it in search of something better.

“I listen to Abba, jackass. It’s quality stuff.”

Dean made a gagging noise and pretended to stick his finger down his throat. It was all the excuse Gabriel needed to abandon his reading assignment and tackle Dean to the floor, which turned into a wrestling match that nearly took out a lamp and one of Castiel’s stacks of books.

“Guys,” Castiel complained, but then Gabriel threw Dean off his back, Dean landed on Sam, and Sam’s homework disappeared in the scuffle. Sam responded by tackling Gabriel around the knees, and when his head just narrowly missed the arm of the futon on his way down, Castiel admitted defeat and suggested they take it outside.

They did, and the rest of the afternoon turned into a game of tag interspersed with wrestling matches and a game of keep-away featuring one of Castiel’s shoes.

As it got later and the sun began its journey toward the horizon, the temperature started to drop significantly. Castiel took a good long look at the dark clouds filling the sky and announced, “We need to go now,” but by the time they’d run inside and collected their books, rain had started to drizzle from the sky.

“We can make it,” Gabriel said, but he didn’t sound too sure of himself. They piled onto the bikes with their backpacks and started to pedal, but the rain was freezing cold and none of them were dressed for it. About a block down the street, they couldn’t see far enough in front of them to safely ride. 

“Where the fuck did this come from?” Gabriel shouted over the downpour as they turned their bikes around and pedaled as hard as they could back toward the church.

“I should have noticed,” Castiel called back, but he didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have the lung power left after pedaling so hard. He’d seen the clouds earlier, though, sitting out on the edge of the sky and hinting at a storm. A miscalculation, he thought with a frown. He’d assumed the storm would come much later.

They didn’t waste a second getting inside once they got back to the church. They dropped their backpacks in a wet pile on one of the pews and unanimously agreed to abandon their wet shirts as well.

“There are blankets in the loft, but no heat.” Castiel told them as they all stripped off their soaking wet jeans as well. It was hard to speak through chattering teeth, but he wasn’t the only one with that problem. Gabriel was shivering the hardest, cold rain clinging to his hair and lips tinged blue. “Come on. Upstairs.”

Dean, Sam, and Gabe huddled on the floor in the middle of the room, and Castiel pulled several blankets from a small closet. He also found something that looked like an old pair of choir robes, a tablecloth, and a thin towel. They passed the towel around to dry their hair, then Castiel looked at the materials and their surroundings and had an idea. “Sam, help me?” Sam was shivering the least, despite being the smallest of them. 

Using the futon, crates of records, stacks of books, a chair, and a few other fixtures, Castiel and Sam strung up a blanket fort in the center of the room. They used the tablecloth and robes as the fort and wrapped themselves in the remaining blankets, huddling together in the very middle of it all for all the warmth they could get. Gabriel was still shivering hard, and Castiel wrapped his arms around his brother to try to warm him up.

“M fi-ne, C-cas,” he stuttered, but he leaned into the warmth anyway.

“How long will it last?” Sam asked, looking up at their tablecloth ceiling. 

Dean wondered aloud, “Do you think Michael will come get us?”

“Shit,” Gabriel gasped. 

“Gabriel… did you tell Michael where we were going?” 

“No,” Gabriel said, dropping his head to his knees, which were tucked up against him. Sam frowned and shifted over to Gabriel’s other side, wrapping his smaller arms around Gabe’s middle. 

“Sokay. Michael or Bobby will find us,” Sam said with certainty. 

“Dad’s gonna be pissed,” Dean groaned. “Do you guys have a phone here?”

Castiel shook his head. “Despite his absence, our father continues to pay the electricity and upkeep bills of this church. The phone, however, ceased to work nearly two years ago. We’ll have to wait the storm out, or wait for someone to find us.”

The storm raged on outside, only growing in intensity as the minutes ticked by. Thunder could be heard in the distance, angry grumbles preceded by flashes of far off light. They listened to the storm in silence, slowly warming in their small fort despite the outside temperature continuing to drop. They were just starting to get comfortable when a sound that could only be described as the sky being ripped apart sounded above them, followed by a cannonball crack of thunder that shook every floorboard and fixture in the church. 

Every one of them jumped and Sam screamed, then buried himself under the blankets and bit his lip as hard as he could so he wouldn’t cry. Dean, though his heart was still pounding, reached under the blankets to rub Sam’s back, and Gabriel’s fingers found Sam’s damp hair and combed through it soothingly. 

Nobody made fun of him for screaming, and when the next crack of thunder shook the building and lightning cast strange shadows on the cloth walls of their fort, Castiel spoke up. “Sam, do you know what that is?”

“Thunder?” Sam guessed miserably. 

“That’s what we call it, but Michael always told me it was the sounds of Angels bowling. Whenever it starts to rain, all of the Angels in Heaven get out their bowling balls and have big competitions. The lightning happens when somebody gets a strike.” He paused for another crash of thunder, this one less terrible than the past two. “Have you ever been bowling, Sam?”

It took a minute for Sam to emerge from beneath the blankets, but he did. “Never in a real bowling alley, but sometimes when Dad was away, Dean would find a bunch of soda cans and stack them up and we would bowl with a baseball.” He smiled at the memory.

Dean smiled too, remembering their makeshift sports. “Ah, that’s nothing. Remember the time we found those beat up hockey sticks in the motel dumpster? We ran around playing street hockey with an old can of tobacco chew. Then I hit the damn thing so hard I put it through the window of a caddy. I think that’s the fastest we’ve ever left town. Dad was pissed, but it was totally worth it. The guy that drove that car was a creep.”

They continued exchanging stories for what felt like hours, but the storm continued to howl and pour and crash around them. Eventually, warmed by the blankets and the heat of each other, they fell into an uneasy sleep. 

There were three things that woke Sam up. First was the absence of noise from the storm. No wind, no rain, no thunder. Second was something that sounded an awful lot like two pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs. And third was the way his face and side burned until he rolled away from Gabriel. He sat up and put his hand on Gabriel’s face. “Holy crap,” he muttered.

Then Michael and Anna came bursting into the room, releasing the corner of the blanket that was shut in the door. The entire blanket fort came toppling down on them, and the commotion woke them all. 

“Oh my god,” Michael panted, looking like he’d run a marathon. “You’re here.” He said it like it was something of a miracle.

“We thought you were here but we couldn’t get out of the driveway with that storm…” Anna looked at all of them and sighed with relief. 

Gabriel groaned and Sam spoke up. “Gabe has a really bad fever, Michael. We got stuck in the rain and he was shivering a lot and now he’s super hot.”

“I’m always super hot, Sammy,” Gabriel said with a weak chuckle. “No, I feel like shit.”

“Well you’re still cracking jokes, so you’re not dead yet,” Michael said, then reached down and helped his brother to his feet. “Let’s get you all home and safe.”

The car clock read three in the morning, and the rain had finally let up. Snow was drifting down from the sky now, melting in the wet roads and collecting on doorsteps and mailboxes. Michael drove slowly and carefully.

“Does my dad know we’re gone?” Dean asked.

Anna turned around in her seat. “He wasn’t home when we left. I imagine the rain trapped him wherever he was. If he’s still not home when we get here, you boys can spend the night.” She looked over to her feverish brother and added, “Maybe not in Gabriel’s room, though. If all four of you get sick, Thanksgiving is going to be a whole lot worse.”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Gabriel groaned. “It’s Thanksgiving and nobody is gonna let me cook because I’m sick. Thanks a fucking lot, bowling angel douchebags.” He sighed and melted back into the carseat. “This blows.”

It was around four thirty in the morning when Dean finally found himself in Castiel’s room, pulling on a pair of pajama pants that were a little short in the ankles. They’d all taken turns in the shower, then Anna had made them all hot tea to help with the chill. Dean was extremely grateful to be warm and dry at last. They climbed into bed and waited for Sam, who insisted on bringing Gabriel one last glass of water before bed.

“By the way, that was really nice of you, Cas,” Dean said as they slipped under the warm covers and savored the comfort. When he noticed Castiel’s confusion, he specified, “telling Sam that story about angels bowling.”

Castiel looked at him for so long that he started to feel a bit awkward under the scrutiny. “Do you believe in Angels, Dean?”

“Fluffy wings? Halos? Nah. But Castiel, Angel of Thursday? He’s right here.” 

\--

 

In the end, Gabriel insisted on going to Bobby’s with the rest of them for Thanksgiving. He ate approximately one forkful of each dish, then crawled into the living room and fell asleep on the couch with Bobby’s dog.

 

**December**

Midterms, unfortunately, were looming in the not-too-distant future, and Castiel was taking them seriously. Their time at Bobby’s after school was normally reserved for snacks, fixing cars, and organizing books, but lately it had been nothing but studying. Bobby insisted that the Impala would keep just fine, and reminded Dean that school had to come first if he wanted to keep his job as Bobby’s assistant. Even Castiel willingly put a hold on his Japanese lessons to focus on the French test he had coming up, in addition to all the others.

Sam was the only one who didn’t have to worry about midterms, so instead he sat next to Cas and Dean while they studied for Dean’s math test on square roots. After the third day of watching, he’d learned how to do them, so for show and tell on the Friday before winter break, he demonstrated to the class how to do square roots. Nobody got it, but Ms. Dunn was extremely impressed, and gave him two gold stars next to his name on the board. The look on Carson’s face was immensely satisfying. 

Gabriel spent his last day before winter break pissing off a lot more people than just one. He’d made good friends with the two kids in his English class, Max and Casey, and when they found out they were having a substitute teacher, he came up with a plan. Before the teacher came in the room, he managed to convince all of the students to hide their textbooks. They had the sub convinced for nearly thirty minutes that she had the wrong lesson plan because, “Textbooks? We never got those for this class.”

Finally Eve, the arch nemesis of Gabriel and his friends, ratted them out, and Gabriel was sent to the office with Max and Casey. Instead of heading to the office, though, they took a detour to the bathrooms to steal all of the toilet paper and roll it down the nearest three hallways. Max found Eve’s locker and picked the lock, swapping it for his own and tossing hers in the garbage. Then the three of them made their way to the cafeteria, walking in just as the lunch bell sounded. Unfortunately, it was a half day, so he didn’t have much more opportunity for mischief after that.

Meanwhile, Castiel had been taking the last two of his midterms, stressing over each one until they were done. Afterwards he felt pretty confident about his results, but mostly he was just glad to be done. Dean shared his sentiment. 

“I got one of my tests back, though!” Dean told Cas in art class. His math midterm had been on Tuesday, and the teacher had passed them back today. “Can you believe it?”

“One hundred percent?” Cas smiled. “I told you that studying would pay off.”

Dean was excited to show his test to his dad. His grades had never been bad, but a one-hundred percent on an important test? That was something to brag about. He kept it tucked safely in his backpack between two textbooks, checking on it throughout the day to make sure it was still there. At the end of the day, when they met at the flagpole, Gabriel high-fived him for his score. Since Bobby had left for California two days ago, the four of them walked to a nearby gas station after school and bought warm pretzels to eat while they waited for Anna to pick them up.

Anna had some last minute shopping to do, so she dropped Sam and Dean off at home and took Cas and Gabe with her. Dean waved goodbye as they pulled back out of the driveway, then turned and headed inside, already slipping his backpack off of his shoulder to fish out his test. Sam trailed along behind him, asking what he was so excited about.

John was home, and had been for two days in a row. He’d called in sick to work, but Dean knew from the way he’d been carrying around the old family photo album that it wasn’t the kind of sick that chicken noodle soup could fix. It was the kind of sick that came about sometimes on holidays, or on Mom’s birthday, or the anniversary of the day she died. Sometimes it happened out of the blue, triggered by a word or a pretty blonde lady passing on the sidewalk. 

Dean didn’t know how to fix it, and he wasn’t even certain Sam noticed it, so he stuck with the Winchester Way and pretended nothing was wrong at all. 

John was on the couch, half awake and watching an old western movie that Dean didn’t recognize. The front door shutting behind his sons seemed to wake him, and he sat up and grunted a hello. “Home already?”

“Yes sir,” Sam said, almost dropping his backpack by the door, then remembering that Dad didn’t like it when he did that. “It was a half-day since it’s almost Christmas.”

“Oh,” John nodded. The creases on his forehead seemed deeper; the bags under his eyes were darker and heavier.

“I have something to show you,” Dean said, pulling the test out from between his textbooks and passing his backpack to Sam, who stuck his tongue out, but took it. 

“What’s that?” John paused the movie and sat forward on the couch seat, and Dean passed him the piece of paper with the big blue A+ on the front. John looked it over, studying the questions and answers, and even flipping it over to see the back. Then he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He passed the test back to Dean. “Your mother would be so proud,” he said. Then he stood, ruffled Dean’s hair like he hadn’t done in years, and disappeared into his bedroom. 

He didn’t come out for Christmas.

\--

When the doorbell rang on Christmas morning, Castiel jumped up to answer it first. “Look what Anna got me,” he said as a greeting, spreading his arms to show off his bright red sweater. It said “Merry Christmas You Filthy Animal”, a reference to Cas’ most recent favorite movie, Home Alone. 

“Don’t you have enough sweaters?” Dean joked. Cas stuck his tongue out like he often saw Sam do, and Dean laughed at him. He scowled and Dean laughed harder.

Sam was already in the door and inspecting the decorations. Anna had gone all out, and everything was overly festive. The kitchen smelled strongly of cinnamon and cider, and Gabriel was wearing an apron and a paper chef’s hat. 

“That’s got to be a fire hazard,” Michael complained when he saw it, but Gabriel just winked and slid a sheet of gingerbread cookies into the oven.

With Dean finally inside and the door firmly shut against the cold, Castiel returned to the living room where he had been cutting snowflakes out of folded up paper. Sam followed him in and watched him make one, then promptly joined in. “I learned it in art class with Dean,” Castiel explained as he unfolded his most recent snowflake. He was fascinated by the fact that he could cut meaningless designs into something with no rhyme or reason, and have it produce something so perfectly symmetrical and detailed. Dean hadn’t shared his sentiment, and didn’t seem to be interested in joining them on the floor.

Gifts this year were simple things, found in thrifts stores or made in secret. Despite this, they were all things that brought smiles to the faces of the four friends. Dean had drawn something for each of them. Sam had managed to find a book for Cas and an apron with cupcakes on it for Gabriel at the thrift store. For Dean, he carefully constructed a homemade band poster out of empty vinyl sleeves that Gabriel had found for him. Gabriel gave everyone miniature stockings full of candy and homemade chocolate chip cookies. Castiel, predictably, had managed to find a book for each of them. A recipe journal for Gabriel to record all his favorites in, a sketchbook for Dean, who was always doodling on the margins of his homework, and a writing journal for Sam, so he could out-write “that stupid Carson girl” and make stories of his own.

Nobody mentioned John’s absence, but at the end of the night when they were all full of gingerbread cookies, ham, and cider, Michael gave Dean a bag full of canned and boxed foods. “They’re for your dad. For you guys, really. I still mean what I said; you and Sam are welcome to eat here whenever you’d like. But I’d like you guys to have food at your home too.”

Dean sort of wanted to hug Michael, but that wasn’t the Winchester thing to do. Instead he took the bag with a nod and a sincere, “Thank you,” collected his napping brother, and headed home. He hid the bag in the back of their closet, knowing that John would never accept “charity from those Novak kids”, but the knowledge that it was there and the feeling of a full stomach let Dean enjoy one of the best night’s sleeps he’d had in a good long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will edit more in the morning. I am so tired. Sorry for the super long wait, but this chapter clocked in just under 20k words, so it kind of took a while o.o I wish I could say it's the only chapter that will be that long buuttt..... Well, I'll try to update at least once a month. 
> 
> So, just for fun, can anyone guess what actual SPN characters Arty, Polly, Trunks, Nathan, Jamie, and Lucy are? I like to try to include SPN side characters where I can.
> 
> Also, about the Halloween Party: I just wanted to clear it up a bit in case it was confusing. I did a lot of research on the topic, and yes, you can have panic attacks after smoking weed. However, panic attacks don't usually make you lose time. The reason Gabe spaced out and didn't remember the trip from the car to Lucifer's room was because he was also very drunk. Also, if you didn't click the link and listen to the [fiddle/violin version of Sweet Child of Mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cksvLRO8YaY), you need to.
> 
> Bonus fun fact: Carson is based off my second grade nemesis, with whom I competed for "Teacher's Pet" all year. To this day, we are best friends (and GISHWHES partners too!)
> 
> Bonus Fact 2: Ms. Rodriguez, Gabe's English teacher, is based off my seventh grade English teacher of the same name, who I pray was fired. She was such a royal bitch it was mindblowing.
> 
> And last but not least, because I know I make way too many notes at the beginning and end of these things, if there are any of the four characters that I seem to be skipping over, please let me know. I want you to get a taste of everyone growing up, not just one or two of them!


End file.
